Bond of Brotherhood
by Pit Viper of Doom
Summary: In a Juska clan, four brothers are schooled in evil. Within Abbey walls, a thief's son and a former prince grow and learn. A young Corsair searches for the remnants of her crew. Seven fates are intertwined, and beliefs are challenged. Lives will change.
1. Chapter 1

_Eventually, all ropes will snap, be cut through, or rot away to nothing. There is no ribbon, string, or cord that can withstand everything. Except one. There is one, and only one, that will last past the deaths of the beasts who are its keepers. It is the invisible, intangible bond that holds loved ones together._

_This is the classic bedtime story. It is a tale of tyranny and oppression, and of the light that dawns in good hearts, a light known by many names: courage, valor, selflessness, but most of all, love. This light is the very foundation of what Redwall stands for: steadfastness in times of crisis, and the simple yet powerful thing called freedom. The story I will tell now is of all that and more, but most of all it is about an event that taught me much about the importance of family, about this mysterious bond that binds us all together, and especially about a desperate desire for redemption that lasts even beyond the grave._

_--A memoir by the Apprentice Recorder of Redwall Abbey, under the direction of Sister Melanda, in Mossflower Country_

Of the four young martens, Kyru was easily the biggest and strongest. Lean yet sinewy, with smooth fur and quick, dark eyes, the oldest brother could clearly hold his own in a fight.

The second brother was smaller and less fiery. Venlow was more soft spoken than his older brother, less quick-tempered, and much more diplomatic about convincing others to listen to him.

Dante was the third son, and he was nearly as fierce as Kyru. He was good with fire and metals, so many of the Juska vermin looked to him to repair any broken weapons, or make new ones.

Last of all was Cody. Upon birth, he had immediately been disowned by his father for his undersized, slight appearance. So his brother Venlow had taken it upon himself to look out for him. In time, Cody had developed an innocent, childlike trust for him. And in return for Venlow's devotion, Cody had entrusted him with his greatest secret. His deep, doleful blue-green eyes were useless. Cody was blind.

From then on, Venlow did his level best to keep the secret hidden. Their father, Harun Lok, had issued a decree that any babe born with a disability would be killed along with its mother. They were Juskalok, and weakness was not tolerated. Females were nearly useless; they were good only for making more warriors or slaving to the superior males. As the Juska Chief's mate, Kara Lok was treated better, but she was also subject to her husband's rages. As for the kits... they were nothing more than future soldiers.

In time, Cody allowed Venlow to reveal the great secret to Dante, but the three of them agreed that not a word was spoken to Kyru. There were many rumors going around that Kyru would be the next Taggerung; if that were to be true, and Kyru found out about Cody's blindness (not to mention the fact that Venlow and Dante were hiding it), then there would be Hell to pay.

Then the dream came.

Venlow found himself standing in a dark woodland, surrounded by mist. _I knew there was something funny in that trout that Figger caught,_ he told himself bitterly.

"Hello, Venlow Lok," a strange, echoing voice resonated in the foggy atmosphere. A mouse, dressed in armor and bearing a magnificent sword, marched into his view.

"Venlow! VENLOW!" Cody came dashing up with Dante behind him. The former's eyes were bright with happiness as he stared around wildly. "I can see! I can see!"

Dante, however, took a more uneasy approach to their situation. "Where are we?" he demanded. "And who's he?"

"My name is Martin the Warrior." the mouse replied calmly. "Once you awaken, your brother will be blind once more. But you must listen to what I have to say. You must not say any of this to your father, your brother, or even your mother. This is not my first dealings with beasts in a Juska clan who are not happy with a violent life."

Without thinking, Venlow blurted, "Zann Juskarath Taggerung the otter, right? Warriors always tell stories of him, how he began speaking of a mouse in armor shortly before deserting the Juskarath clan."

"My name is Deyna of Redwall," a new voice informed him. A tall, muscular otter joined the mouse Martin. His hard, warlike eyes fixed into those of all three young martens. "I rejected the Juska the day I left. Now you must do the same. Go to Redwall Abbey. Seek out the young one who has risen from the clouds of conceit, and the child of the mountain who dwells in Abbey walls." Venlow opened his mouth to question him further.

Then the three of them woke simultaneously, and Cody whimpered slightly when he realized that he could no longer see.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the three of them, Kyru also dreamed. The big marten thundered through the battlefields of his subconscious, striking left and right with a huge sword with a jewel-encrusted handle. Woodlanders fell before him as they tried in vain to bring him down, the mighty Taggerung! He had no need of an army at his back; he could slay a thousand enemies and emerge without a single wound. And suddenly, something caught his eye. 

In the midst of the slaughter, a lone ferret stood with a fiery inferno blazing at his back. He was young, probably only about as old as Venlow. But his dark eyes were sad as the strange creature watched Kyru massacre his dream-foes with a killing joy. Then everything around him halted. The huge fire no longer roared and flickered, and the woodlanders around him ceased to move.

Kyru looked down, shocked, at the dream-mouse he had just run through. He struggled to free the sword, but the shining weapon turned to black dust in his paw. Frustrated, Kyru stood back and realized that the ferret was now standing beside him.

"What did you do?" Kyru snarled accusingly. The ferret shrugged, and gestured with a red paw to the face of the dream-mouse that Kyru had just killed. With a jolt, Kyru realized that the ferret's left paw bore six claws rather than five.

"I'd never known vermin to dream with such detail," the ferret remarked, ignoring Kyru's question. He spoke truly; the mask of frozen fear and defiance on the dream-mouse's face looked as clear as if Kyru were in the waking world. "And with such accuracy." Kyru looked. The mouse he had just stabbed had died purposely; he had jumped into the path of the blade to block the killing blow from the young squirrel behind him. Kyru noticed the expression of sadness in the ferret's eyes as he looked upon the petrified mouse.

"Aw, what do you care?" Kyru said scornfully, spitting carelessly on the ground. "It's just a dream, and you just interrupted it when it was getting good."

The six-clawed young ferret laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, I see nothing good about this hideous creation of your mind," he replied, shaking his head. "Perhaps I might have, back before I was killed. But a lesson can be learned in no more time than it would take to hurl a javelin. Or," he added meaningfully with another glance at the mouse "to jump in front of one."

Kyru stared at him curiously. "Are you a vermin warrior of olden times, come to teach me to be great?"

With a half-smile that bore no emotion at all, the ferret answered cryptically. "Yes. In a way."

"Who are you?" the marten queried, narrowing his eyes. The half-smile widened slowly, and the strange vermin answered in rhyme.

"Give him a name and leave him a while

Veil may live to be evil and vile

Though I hope my prediction will fail

And evil so vile will not live in Veil."

Kyru stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"A badger by the name of Bella of Brockhall wrote that rhyme before she gave me my name," the ferret replied. "Take heed of what I have told you, my friend. I will be seeing you again soon."

The vision faded, and Kyru was back in his own bed. Like an echo, the strange six-clawed ferret's voice rang in his mind.

"They gave me a name and left me a while

Maybe I did become evil and vile.

But, in the end, their prediction did fail

I am the Outcast. My name is Veil."

* * *

**All right, new fic! So, what do you think? Too rushed? Too long? Pretty good? Flame-worthy? I hope I can finish this one, because I had to euthanize my last one. It died, and I couldn't rescusitate it. :P**

**--Adderstar of ValorClan**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay. Before you start reading, I'd like to say that YES! I KNOW! I KNOW ROOPERT IS OOC! Come to think of it, so was Veil, a little. But whatever. Enjoy chapter 2, and please R&R.

* * *

**"Now grab that big branch and leap onto that alder, right there. That's it! Weave through the leaves, then-- yes! You've got it, Roopert!"

Elated, the young squirrel swung down from the branches and somersaulted to the ground next to his branch-hopping teacher. "It feels great to be in the trees, Mister MacBurl," he said happily. "It's what a squirrel does, like you say."

The older squirrel chuckled. "Better than bein' a Crown Prince?"

"Way better!" young Roopert snorted. "I can't believe I ever wanted to be that! All I could do back then was laze around, get fat, and boss creatures around."

Rakkety Tam MacBurl tousled Roopert's headfur. "Abbey life's done wonders on you, young'un. I'm just glad you started livin' it so early on in your life." He winked. "A lot easier to straighten you out a wee bit, eh?"

"Ah, sure it'll be a grand hard thing to straighten out an ould squirrel, what with that curly tail, eh Rockbottom?" A small-framed vole, slightly younger than Roopert, strode casually into the clearing where the two squirrels stood. With a nod at his namesake, the vole adjusted a sling that hung over his back. The little tortoise he was addressing peeked timidly over his shoulder. His shortsword hung from his waistbelt, as well as a small pouch of trinkets he always carried with him and a small dagger.

Roopert darted forward to greet the visitor. "Rakktam Lightpaw, me old messmate, it's good to see you."

"'Me old messmate'?" Tam laughed. "Your mother would swoon til her ears turned blue if she heard you talkin' like a 'vulgar, dripping water beast', as she calls the otters these days."

Making a face, Roopert scoffed. "My mother? My mother refused point-blank to obey Mother Abbess this morning. All she had to do was help Sister Mimsie make the beds in the Infirmary, but she got all snotty and threw a hissy-fit about how it wasn't the proper pastime for royalty. She's no more royalty than Yoofus is. Speakin' o' which, how is that pie-pinchin' dad of yours nowadays, Rakk?"

The young vole's demeanor changed immediately. His face became grim, and he pawed at the hilt of his arming sword. "That's why I'm here. Ye ever hear of an ould group o' vermin clans called Juska?"

"Yeah, I learned about them in Abbeyschool, and the otter warrior Taggerung Deyna," Roopert answered uneasily. "What about 'em?"

"A band o' Juska scouts payed me family a liddle visit," Rakktam informed the two of them. "The lot of 'em set fire to our 'ome, and I managed to escape with me sword an' Rockbottom. But I didn't what became of me mum'n'dad. Leastways, I didn't know till I went back there." The young vole turned his head away, and Rockbottom the tortoise shrank back into his shell.

Tam's face was tight. "Y'mean...Yoofus'n'Didjety..."

The vole nodded once, and a tear maneuvered through the fur on his cheek. "Aye. I found 'em dead halfway between our home an' the Muskars'. Luckily the vermin didn't reach the dormice. Mister Muskar an' Lupinia an' their children helped me bury 'em by the river. I'll show ye the spot sometime, but right now we got ourselves in a grand ould crisis, eh?"

Roopert felt a rush of sympathy for his friend. Knowing little else to do, he threw a comforting paw about his shoulders. "Don't you worry, mate, we'll pay back the vermin who did it. But first, let's get you back to the Abbey. Abbess Brooky has to know."

"I just hope Armel can take the new crisis," Tam sighed. "In fact, I hope me an' Doogy can, too. It's been twenty-five seasons since I last fought a war, and I doubt I could do it again now."

"I doubt you'll have to fight a wolverine, sir," Roopert called over his shoulder as he and Rakktam headed back to the Abbey.

Tam followed the two younger creatures back to Redwall. The middle-seasoned squirrel watched sadly as evening fell. It was just like his own life, he realized. The sun was setting on his time as a warrior, and in a few seasons he would be an old creature. With a sigh, Rakkety Tam MacBurl wondered if this new crisis would prove too much.

* * *

"Parry the blow...and counter! No, not like that, idiot!" Sott strode forward angrily into the mock fight and struck Venlow on the shoulder. The blow threw the young marten off balance, knocking him to the ground. Immediately, the burly rat was upon him. Venlow let go of his sword, covered his head with both paws, and waited helplessly, as silently as he could, before Sott decided to stop kicking him.

The lean young weasel who had been sparring with Venlow made no attempt to help him; it would get him beaten even worse. All he could do was hold his sword loosely at his side and avert his eyes until the punishment was finished.

Finally, Sott stepped back to let Venlow up. Shaking the dazed ringing out of his head, Venlow did his best to ignore the bruises and stooped to retrieve his sword.

"Try it again," Sott snapped. "Figger is smaller than yew, and he's lickin' ye like a babby to a honey crystal." Figger looked at his feet; he and Venlow were good friends, but Venlow was less skilled with fighting and Figger was a bit lacking in the bravery department.

With a sigh, Venlow raised his blade and struck out at Figger. The beating provided a bit of much-needed motivation; Venlow actually succeeded in parrying Figger's strike and countering with a swing that Figger was forced to block.

"That's better," Sott growled. Relieved, Venlow relaxed his guard. Not realizing this, Figger aimed another blow at his left side. Venlow blocked it clumsily, earning another barrage of insults from his instructor.

"Yew butterpawed, good-fer-nutin', mud-wallowin', bumblin', ditherin' heap o' useless rubbish!" Sott roared. "I oughtta beat the feathers outta your brain for that, offal brain! In fact, I will!" He started forward aggressively.

"Stop, Sott," a new voice interrupted the rat's tirade. Venlow turned, shocked, to see who his rescuer was. It was Kyru.

Sott stiffened, about to rebuke the marten for ordering him around, before he remembered that Kyru was to be, possibly, the next Taggerung. "Yes? What is it?"

Through narrowed eyes, Kyru squinted at Venlow. Then, without warning, the older marten drew his sword and swung it upward and and down in a flashing arc. Venlow raised his sword barely in time to block the fierce blow. Kyru followed the strike with a similar swing to the side, which Venlow parried as well. Again and again, Kyru swung powerfully at his brother, forcing him to defend all the time rather than attack. Even though Venlow's sword paw ached after the first four attacks, Kyru carried on effortlessly. Moreover, he was able to talk while fighting.

"Offense is the best defense," Kyru explained, with just a miniscule hint of breathlessness in his voice. "Never give your opponent time to recover. Moreover--" With a swift twist, he sent Venlow's blade flying before presenting the tip of his own sword to the bridge of his younger brother's nose.

Venlow stepped backward, staring at his brother with obvious admiration. "I hope I can fight half as good as you, someday," he said wistfully.

"Keep practicing, little brother," Kyru advised, sheathing his blade and striding away.

Once he was gone, Figger leaned on his sword and grinned. Like most of the Juskabeasts, he admired and liked Kyru for his fighting skills and often good humor. "Ky's a great fencer. Woe to the beast who gets in his way when his blood's up!" The weasel was different from most vermin, in that he was relatively educated. He was quite good with arithmetic.

Sott grunted approvingly at Figger's remark before barking an order. "Right, then. Both of ye, get out into the woods and fine some supper for yerselves. Shift yoreselves quick, cos I ain't comin' to find yer if'n ye get lost."

* * *

Meanwhile, Kyru made his way back to his own tent. Satisfied that he had motivated his younger brother and impressed Figger (his ears had caught the weasel's admiring remark), he was ready for a good dinner.

A blow from behind nearly knocked him flat. Kyru turned around indignantly to spit at whoever had struck him when he realized that it was his father. The blistering insult froze in the back of his throat, and he waited for Harun to explain the cause of his anger.

It did not take long. "What do you think you're _doing?_" Harun hissed furiously. "Why in the name of Hellgates are you teaching your skills to Venlow?"

Confused, Kyru answered promptly. "He needed help, Fa-- I mean, sir," he explained. "He was having trouble, and I thought--"

"Think? You don't think! I do the thinking!" Harun raged, striking his son again. "You may be good with a sword, Kyru, but you are still a young, wet-behind-the-ears pup! You are brash and foolish!"

The young marten hung his head. "Apologies, Lord," he said humbly. In his mind, he thought, _When I am Taggerung, I will have you killed, old one. _Out loud, he inquired,"May I be so bold as to ask why I should not help to turn my brothers into proper Juska warriors?"

"If they cannot fight for themselves, then they do not deserve to be Juska warriors," Harun snarled. "We may live in a clan, Kyru, but when it all comes down to it, it's every beast for itself. You can only be a Taggerung if you do not worry yourself over others. That is the way of the warrior."

Kyru took in his father's words silently; he was determined to be the perfect warrior. And while he listened to the Juska Chief's words, he plotted. Once he was Taggerung, Harun would have to be out of the way.

* * *

**Ooh, Kyru's so evil... :P Once again, I'm sorry that Roopert is OOC. I just felt so sorry for him at the end of Rakkety Tam, so I decided, ah hey, what if Tam, Doogy, Melanda, and the rest of them took the "Royal Family" to Redwall to teach them a few manners? Roopert was easier to straighten out, since he was still young and impressionable, but not so Araltum and Idga. **

**At your disposal (not really),**

**Adderstar of ValorClan**


	3. Chapter 3

Annis Corsac was not like other vixen Seers. She was younger than most, only about three seasons older than Kyru. Unlike fabled Juska Seers like Ermath and Grissoul, she shunned the eerily gaudy garb of a vermin soothsayer. No bones, feathers, shells, or rocks hung from her clothing, which bore no tatters or ragged edges. She was usually clad simply in a homespun long-sleeved blue tunic and a black vest. Not one Juskalok clanbeast had ever seen her performing odd dances or tossing around shells and twigs, which was normally customary with vixen Seers.

The buff-colored vixen wasn't even of Juska blood. She had come to them when she was no older than Cody. In broad daylight, Annis had strolled right into the camp and been able to name ever creature there. She knew the names of Harun Lok's father and grandfather, and the exact days of the births of his three sons.

Harun, however, disgusted by the crippled vixen's stunted height, was about to have her thrown out when she went into a trance in front of him and prophesied the death of the current Seer, Jurgara. After that, Harun chained her in his own tent to make sure she didn't attempt foul play. Sure enough, a few days later Jurgara was walking along a riverbank when she slipped and hit her head on a rock. Had she been younger, she might have lived. But age made her bones weak, and her skull shattered. Harun had been guarding Annis himself at that moment, and four Juska beasts had witnessed Jurgara's death. There was no way Annis could be accused of any crime. In fact, she was welcomed into the clan and became the new Seer, despite her young age.

Despite her apparent lack of a sense of Seer tradition, there was no doubt that Annis was an odd creature by all accounts. She was small and crippled; a defect in her birth had granted her a deformed spine, which stunted her growth and made her limp. Oftimes she could be seen sitting before the fire, staring deep into the heart of it while the flickering light danced in her pale gray-green eyes. She would sit like this long into the night, sometimes rocking slightly, sometimes chanting under her breath. Many clanbeasts swore that they could hear her whispery voice in their minds, and others firmly believed that she could enter dreams. Still, as far as anybeast was concerned, she was only a strange vixen with an even stranger power, but one that many vixens had.

But what did they know?

Annis sat before her campfire, facing the flames as always. The blaze flickered on her sand-colored fur, and it tinged the white fur on her front a glowing yellow. The vermin near her excused themselves. The way the firelight danced in her eyes unnerved them greatly, and her eerie trances gave them spine-shivers.

Secretly, Annis was glad of this. She needed privacy.

Steadying her breathing, the vixen reached into her pouch, took out a pawful of vervain leaves, and tossed them into the crackling fire. Through half-open eyes, she watched the leaves blacken and curl. Then, fighting down the apprehension, she pressed her paws into the very heart of the blaze. A blueish birthmark on the back of her left paw, in the shape of a star, lit up in the flames.

She saw the orange embers lick at her outstretched paws, but no pain came. It never did. As she relaxed every muscle in her small frame and absorbed herself in the noises of night and fire, she began to whisper a chant.

"Speak to me, he who rejected the Earth-shaker's rule," she murmured. "Father of my forefathers, redeemed one, who ended the days of Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast. Show me... give me your courage, noble fox..."

Annis let herself slip into the familiar, almost comforting fog that came of a trance, and the scene before opened out before her.

_The young mouse stepped carefully through the stream, hoping he wouldn't slip. He had little provisions as it was, and the last thing he needed was to get them soaked. A sturdy sword, black-bound with a red pommel stone, hung over his back._

_But the steel blade wasn't the only thing that weighed him down. An unseen force seemed to drag at him, and the creature's demeanor made it quite clear. It was guilt, plain and simple._

_Pausing, the young mouse drew his sword. With a skillful swing, he sliced a ripe apple from a wild russet tree and caught it. Juice exploded in his mouth as he bit into hit, but the fresh fruit was bittersweet on his tongue. Glumly he dropped the bitten apple and continued on his way._

_"It's not good to waste food, you know."_

_The mouse whirled around at the strange voice, tensing when he saw that it was a fox. But after a moment he relaxed ans sheathed his blade when he got a good look at the strange creature. He was quite small, unbelievably ancient, and unarmed aside from a walking stick that he leaned heavily on. The hoary creature was incredibly frail, and his back was bent and crooked. Oddly, there were traces of blue in his graying fur._

_With a grunt of effort, the fox bent down and picked up the bitten apple. "If you're going to pick fruit, then eat it all. I'm sure Mother Nature does not want her gifts wasted."_

_Warily but politely, the mouse took the proffered fruit. "I suppose," he replied. "I was hungry when I first picked it, but I lost my appetite."_

_"Food is not the only thing that fills the belly," the fox said with a nod. "Just as your appetite is not the only thing you've lost, eh, young Martin?"_

_The young mouse looked up sharply. "How do you know my name?"_

_"How do you know the sky is blue and the grass is green?" the fox chuckled. "When I saw you, I saw your name as plainly as the whiskers on your face."_

_"Who are you?" Marten demanded._

_"Last of the Blue Hordes, some call me," the fox answered, shrugging. "Defier or the Fearsome Beast. But you may call me Groddil."_

_"But how do you know I lost something?" Martin pressed._

_Groddil's eyes misted over with memory. "The way you carry yourself, young'un, the anger and regret in your haunted eyes, all remind me of myself when I was only a few seasons older than you are now."_

_"What do you mean?" Martin asked._

_The ancient creature's rheumy eyes hardened. "Have you ever seen a wildcat, young'un?"_

_Martin shook his head. "I've heard of them. What about you? Have you ever seen one?"_

_"Seen one?" the fox cackled. "Young'un, I served under one! His name was Ungatt Trunn the Fearsome Beast, the Earth-Shaker, He Who Makes the Stars Fall. When I was younger than you, he slaughtered my family and ruined my back. It stunted my growth and crippled me forever. And you know what the real insult was? He discovered my power and made me High Magician in his Blue Hordes!"_

_"What happened to him? Where is he now?"_

_"Dead!" Groddil cackled again. "Long dead, spine broken by a Badger Lord. A taste of his own medicine, eh? Then pushed into the sea by yours truly." The old fox sighed. "Then I left that shore and never returned. I went North, started a little family o' my own, and left once my oldest son was grown."_

_"Why?" Martin inquired._

_"Well, you, young Martin," Groddil replied. "I saw you in a dream, and I knew I had to meet you."_

_"You're a Seer?" Martin said incredulously. "Can you tell me my future?"_

_T__he ancient creature heaved a sigh. "I know that you will meet a wildcat in your travels."_

_"What about you?" Martin asked. "Can you see your own future?"_

_Groddil smiled. "Spoken like a warrior; always thinking of someone besides themselves. My own future is invisible to me, but I know what is to come for my bloodline."_

_"What?"_

_"A prophecy, Martin," the fox replied. "Four young beasts, bearing your name, will come. A daughter of the Magician will aide them, bearing two marks. An Outcast will redeem himself, a Prince, a Rogue, and a Thief will play their parts, and the course of Redwall history will change forever."_

_"Redwall?" Martin echoed. "What is that?"_

_"Your destiny," Groddil told him. "You will be a great warrior, Martin. That much is certain. You will be known throughout the land, even after you have gone to rest forever."_

_A thrush let out a cry behind him. Martin whirled around to see the bird winging out of its nest in search of food. When he turned back, the fox had disappeared._

Annis let out a sharp gasp and pulled her paws from the fire. Bearing two marks. She glanced at her birthmark, then ran her paw down her deformed spine. She was a daughter of the Magician. She, too, had a great destiny. That much was certain.

* * *

The crew of the _Barracuda_ was more adventurous than murderous, really. They stole and raided just like most pirate crews, but they rarely killed but for other pirate crews or League mice, and the few creatures who knew of them saw them as bold and daring rather than evil. But few creatures knew of them, indeed. The crew had not existed for long, and most of them were young beasts.

Liberated oarslaves made up the bulk of the crew. They were familiar with their ship, having spent the latter portion of their childhood rowing it. They had rebelled against their corsair captors and taken over the vessel. Their unanimously appointed captain was Saria Stormrider, a female polecat in her late teen seasons.

Saria balanced skillfully on the bowsprit of the Barracuda, holding her rapier aloft. Filled with an exhilaration she had come to take for granted, she laughed into the salty spray. Her stained white shirt flapped in the wind, and her indigo vest threatened to fly off.

Her first mate, a stoat named Marek, clutched the starboard side of the bow, ears pricked toward the galleon they were approaching. Up in the crow's nest, the lookout squirrel Jaru called down to their captain.

"_Bloodsprit's_ fifteen shiplengths an' closin' fast, Cap'n!" Jaru roared. "Comin' in off starboard side!"

"Turn 'er round ter meet 'em, Russ!" Saria ordered, leaping lightly back to the deck.

Russell, the young steersotter with a blueish tinge to his gray fur, saluted smartly from behind the wheel. "Yarr!"

In spite of herself, Saria smiled. Russell was the youngest of all of them, and the life of a slave must have been the first thing he could remember, having been captured as a Dibbun. "Yarr" was the only thing he would ever say. But he made himself understood, all the same.

The polecat adjusted the royal blue bandana wound about her brow, making sure it hid her empty right eye socket. She gritted her teeth. Captain Cythor of the _Bloodsprit_ would pay for her eye. Rarely did she slay the innocent, but Cythor was anything but innocent.

The ship's Quartermaster, a tall ferret named Damon, twirled a dagger in his paw. "Think they amember us, Cap'n?" he said with a daredevil grin.

Saria smiled back at him gamely. "If'n they forgot, we're shore to remind 'em, eh, mate?"

The ferret thrust the dagger back into his belt, still grinning. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Anybeast want the last o' me veggible soup?" Tori the ship's cook called out jokingly. "Or should we chuck it in ole Cy's face instead?" Hearty laughter met the weasel maid's remark.

"Mebbe we shoulda had yer skilly'n'duff!" Jordy, the water vole boatswain, answered. "Nice'n'slimey, it should stick 'em to the deck!"

"You should talk, Jordy!" Tori shot back with a laugh. "I've seen you goin' at me grub! Boatswain? More like boat-swine, you little scoffer!"

"Shut it, now!" Marek warned. "They're comin' up! An' there's the devil hisself, ole Cythor!"

The _Bloodsprit_ came around the starboard side of the _Barracuda_, and the stoat captain Cythor could be seen perched precariously on a yardarm.

"Ahoy there, me pretty!" the stoat roared. "Still floatin' about in that leaky tub?"

"No more a leaky tub than yore skull, ye saltwater leech!" Saria snarled back.

"Saltwater leech I may be, lovey, but at least I kin climb me own riggin'!" Cythor returned. Jeers rang out from the enemy vermin crowding at the ship's side.

Saria clenched her teeth. It was just like Cythor to bring up her infamous fear of heights. "Yew ain't here ter bandy words wi' me, stoat!" the young captain shouted. "An' nor am I! Ye'll pay for me eye, so ye will!"

"So be it, polekitty, but words ain't the only thing to bein' a pirate!" Cythor taunted, brandishing his cutlass. "Let's see ye fight like a swab, love!"

The polecat glanced around at her own crew. They were a motley array of mixed vermin and a smattering of woodlanders, but their numbers were equal to that of Cythor's. "Lash 'er steady, Russell!" she commanded the otter. "Then git yerself ready for a fight!"

"Yarr!" At first, Saria thought this was his way of saying "aye, aye", but she was wrong. A bugle sounded off to port of the _Barracuda,_ and both ship crews turned to see the galleon bobbing toward them.

Saria snarled under her breath. "Rot-bleedin' League mice!" she growled.

The League was an organization who took it upon themselves to regulate the comings and goings of ships and galleons. They were sworn against piracy, and "arrested" any crew caught or witnessed raiding or harboring vermin, and confiscated the ship and any cargo it bore. Many mice made up the League, for they were paid well with what they got off of commandeered vessels.

Though the League ship was slow, it was large. Both corsair captains knew their fight would have to wait. For now, they had a common enemy.

"Ye'll pay for me eye later, Cythor," Saria said, winking her remaining one at the stoat. "Seems we got some League flotsam to gut first."

"Aye, me pretty," Cythor grimaced.

"I ain't yore pretty, slimeface. 'Tis a temporary truce."

A pompous-looking mouse with rich-looking garb stood at the bow of the League ship. "By order of the League master, you are under arrest for piracy!" the mouse announced. "Lower your sails, and you will not be harmed!"

"We lower our sails to nobeast save for Mother Nature's fury!" Saria called back challengingly. "If ye want 'em down, then c'mere and lower 'em yoreself, that's if'n ye dare, mouse!" Supportive cheers erupted from the _Barracuda_.

"Come any closer, and we'll gut ye!" Cythor threatened. "We ain't corsairs fer nothin', fat tail!" The _Bloodsprit's_ crew roared in agreement.

"You have been warned, filthy vermin!" the mouse bellowed indignantly. The League steersmouse brought the huge ship around.

Saria's tail lashed in anticipation. This was what a pirate lived for!

* * *

**Okay, PLEASE refrain from screaming "BASH THE SUES! BASH THE SUES!" and give me time to explain some of this stuff. There's a lot of things I don't actually own. Both the League and the crew of the Barracuda are based off the Leaguesmen and the sky pirates in the Edge Chronicles. If you haven't read those, please do. It's a great book series, awesome illustrations.**

**Now, as for Russell, I don't own him either. Any of you rabid Happy Tree Friends fans will probably recognize him. As with the Edge Chronicles, if you have never seen Happy Tree Friends, and you're as morbid and sick-minded as I am, you're missing out.**

**I named Saria after a character in the Legend of Zelda. I don't know why. I just like that name.**

**Annis is a corsac fox, just so you know. And as you can tell, her Seer skill is for real. I borrowed her "throwing vervain in the fire and sticking her paws in" method from Tamora Pierce's The Song of the Lioness series. Once again, please read it if you haven't already.**


	4. Chapter 4

A hubbub had broken out in the Great Hall.

"Order!" Abbess Brookflow called over the noise, thumping her tail against the ground. "Please, we must have order!"

The Redwallers quieted. "Thank you," the otter Abbess said, turning back to the young water vole. "You're sure they were Juska beasts, Rakktam?"

"Yes, marm," Rakktam replied. "Me ould dad tole me about them. ...I saw one dead vermin, wi' me dad's knife still stuck in 'im."

The otter Abbess bowed her head, blinking back tears. "Ah, poor Yoofus. He went down bravely, it seems."

Rakktam smiled bravely. "If'n I knows me ould mum, she's the one who did the vermin in, and me thievin' dad's just tryin' to steal the credit." A few Abbey creatures laughed sadly. The young vole was probably right.

"Have you made any plans so far as to the defense of the Abbey, Mister MacBurl?" Brooky asked, straightening up and turning to the Abbey Warrior.

Tam stood. "Wallguards must be placed, of course, and Ferdimond, Kersey, Doogy, and myself will organize the Council of War. Skipper and Log-a-Log will aide us, as soon as we can send somebeast out to find them. These beasts haven't showed signs of coming near our Abbey as of yet, so there's no overlarge cause for alarm. On the other paw, we all know the unpredictability of vermin. And, of course, the reports friend Arflow has been giving us of pirates near the coast."

"The League can take care of them, can't they?" Sister Armel said worriedly.

"I'll be frank," Tam replied grimly. "This newly-organized 'League' seems to be a bit of an iffy subject, if'n you ask me."

"Why do you say that?" Sister Mimsie asked.

"Och, the League be nothin' more than braw pack o' blowhards," Doogy scoffed. "They cannae do a decent job o' holdin' off pirates 'less they're payed a bonny lot."

Araltum and Idga were huddled together, snivelling in fear at the thought of vermin. The former raised a trembling paw at Tam. "I hope you can do a better job of defending this Abbey than you did with my groves!"

Bristling, Tam snapped back, "I defended yore borrowed land from vermin for a good number o' seasons, and the only time I didn't was because I was locked up for not playin' yore games! Do not doubt my ability to protect Redwall and its creatures."

The fat squirrel lowered his head sullenly. Roopert, who was standing beside him dutifully, shot Tam an uncomfortable look. The squirrel warrior gave him an almost imperceptible shrug, but Roopert saw it and nodded.

"Our first priority, however, would be to alert the Guosim shrews and Skipper's otter crew of the danger, and see if they have any news," Tam continued. "Doogy and I will lead a party out to--"

"Ye won't be needin' that, mate." An otter strode into the Great Hall with a young shrew at his side. "Me dad Skip sent us here to bring ye news. An' boy, do we 'ave news."

The shrew stepped forward. "My name's Kabbry," she said. "The Guosim have had a new Log-a-Log now, my father Kunlo."

"When was your father made Log-a-Log?" Tam asked.

"Not four weeks ago," Kabbry replied. She paused and closed her eyes, gathering herself for what she would say next. "Log-a-Log Togey is dead."

"Dead?" Armel echoed in disbelief. "How?"

"We weren't sure at first," the young shrewmaid said grimly. "You know the way Guosim splits up sometimes. Togey went far north o' here with a piece of our tribe, including all of his family. That was almost eight seasons ago. Me dad, who was actin' leader, decided to go after 'im, see what was holdin' him up. We found remains of long-dead shrews less than a month's journey from here. One of 'em, by the clothes and 'is rapier, we reckernized as Togey. Nearby, we found Oneshrew and Eightshrew alive, enslaved in a horde o' toads. Far as we can tell, they was the only survivors. Neither o' them wanted the positition o' Log-a-Log, so the shrews voted me dad Kunlo to be leader."

The otter, a small but sinewy young beast named Todd, took up the tale. "Kabbry says we _weren't_ sure," he told them. "Now we are. 'Twas Juska vermin, led by Harun Lok."

"Harun Lok?" Doogy repeated. "'Ave ye 'eard o' sich a beastie, Tam?"

"Nay, Doogy," the squirrel warrior shook his head. "How do you know who led them?"

"Cos we was attacked by a ragtag party of 'em," Todd replied. "We managed to catcher one, once the 'is mates scarpered. He told us, 'Nobeast can defy the might of Harun Lok's Juska. Redwall will be ours,' right afore he tore out his own throat with his bare claws." A few of the gentler Abbey creatures gasped in horror, and a hedgehog Dibbun named Plinn whimpered.

"The otter crew an' the Guosim are comin' this way fast as they can," Kabbry told them. "I only 'opes they don't run into too much trouble."

Abbess Brooky stepped forward, shock clear on her face. "So they're all... dead?" she asked. "Togey, Twoshrew, Threeshrew, and all of them?"

"All save Oneshrew and Eightshrew, marm," Kabbry replied grimly.

"They will all be mourned, along with Yoofus and Didjety Lightpaw," Brooky said solemnly. Then, suddenly, her demeanor changed, and determination shone in her eyes. "But for right now, preparations are to be made! All able-bodied Redwallers must be ready for any sign of an attack from these vermin. Friar Jeb, I want you and all of your kitchen helpers to make an inventory of our supplies. Tam, Ferdy, Kersey, and Doogy, you will organize battle training. Armel, if there was ever a time to stock up on herbs, it's now. Foremole Mudge, you and your moles can go around the Abbey walls, making sure that there are no flaws whatsoever in our defenses, and if there are, fix them as efficiently as possible. I will be up in my dormitory making sure I look nice for our guests." Catching the confused stares from her audience, Brooky laughed. "Whoohahahoo! Only joking, Sister Melanda and I will be recruiting our younger beasts to help me organize our armory. Roopert, Rakktam, Kabbry, Todd and Dauncey, if you all will help us?"

Roopert whirled his tail, ignoring the disapproval from his parents. "Yes marm!"

"Definitely, Mither Abbess," Rakktam said, brightening.

"Jolly good, wot! C'mon chaps!" Dauncey de Mayne, a hare who was slightly younger than Roopert, danced up to his footpaws.

"Aye, marm, I'll help!" Todd nodded.

"Same fer me, Abbess!" Kabbry agreed.

"King Graystreak!" Brooky called out. A large grayish-brown sparrow fluttered down from the rafters. "Do you know the birds around here? What news have they?"

"I have wingfriend," the Sparra king replied. "Redtail hawk, free-flier. I ask him for you, otterworm."

"That would be good of you," the Abbess replied politely.

"I go now, seek him!" The sparrow took wing. "Good wormhunt, friend! Come, Shadefeather! Now-fly, Quickwing!" The three sparrows took off.

The Redwallers all split off to do their own tasks, heartened by the fact that, even with all the danger, Abbess Brooky could still laugh.

* * *

Venlow was trembling. He couldn't help himself. But he forced his face to remain straight, even though a creature was being tortured in front of him. His father's face was cold and emotionless as he pressed his heated swordpoint onto the captive bird's face.

"Tell me all you know of the Abbey, bird," Harun commanded. "You have wings; surely you've seen something."

"Keeeeaaaaaaggghh! I know nothing, nothing!" the hawk insisted.

"Liar," the marten said flatly. "My spies reported seeing you consorting with the Abbey sparrows, particularly their King. What did he tell you?"

"Nothing! I know nothing! You will learn nothing!" A sizzling noise could be heard once more, and the hawk let out another pained scream. Off to the side, Harun's "spies", two bone-thin ravens looked ashamed for causing this fate for their fellow avian.

The young marten felt as though the noises were singing his ears like the glowing metal was singing the hawk's flesh. His stomach heaved, threatening to reveal all he had eaten that day. He couldn't let that happen, not with the whole Clan present. But with the prisoner's pained cries ringing in his ears, it was hard to keep the bile down.

Someone behind him rested a comforting paw on his shoulder. Venlow turned, expecting to see Dante or even Kyru there, but it wasn't. It was Annis, the Seer.

The pale fox's gray-green eyes were narrowed in disgust, but her anger was not directed to Venlow. She met his startled gaze, and Venlow could not find it in his willpower to look away.

_The bird will not die._ A voice rang in his ears; Annis's voice.

_What?_ he thought. _Did I just hear..._

_Yes. Do not fear, Venlow. The bird will live. But you will have larger problems to think about, very soon. _The vixen's grip tightened on his shoulder. _The Abbey must not fall. You know this. You have seen him._

_Seen who?_

_The Warrior Mouse, and the Taggerung. Heed what they tell you, and say nothing to Kyru. His fate is out of your paws. Out of my paws. But listen! Soon, you must leave this cursed place. You must meet the Prince, the Rogue and the Thief._

"But--" Venlow started to say out loud. Then he caught himself. _Who are they?_

Annis broke the connection and replied in a barely audible whisper, "That, even I do not know," before slipping away into the crowd of vermin.

"I will let you live, bird," Harun announced loud enough for everybeast to hear. "If you would be so kind as to deliver a message to your Abbey friends. Tell them that this torture is nothing compared to what they will feel if they do not surrender. Tell them that I have been merciful to you, but I will not spare the rod if they disobey me." He pressed the red-hot metal to the hawk's face once more, then slid the blade into his eye. The bound bird screamed once more before fainting from pain.

The Juska Chief kicked cinders at the hawk's feathers. "It will live," Harun said flatly, turning to Sott and a weasel named Shren. "Take it far from here, where it cannot find us, and untie it. It will find its own way to the Abbey. As for the rest of you, prepare to march on Redwall Abbey." He shoved his way through the throng of vermin, but there was no need to. All the vermin threw themselves out of his way, forming a clear path to his tent. His wife Kara waited for him timidly before holding a plate of food out to him. The marten snatched the roast bird out of her trembling paws and struck her with a cruel back-pawed blow to the face. Several slaves, including females of the clan, moved to help her, but Venlow got there first. The young marten helped her up gently, heart twisting at the sight of the reddish mark.

"All right?" he asked, casting a worried glance in Harun's direction.

"I'm fine," she replied quietly before hurrying away.

Venlow turned to leave, but a voice behind him stopped him.

"You're different from the rest of them."

The young marten spun around to see a reddish-brown squirrel slave, only slightly past infanthood. She sat with her knees hugged against her chest and her tail arched against her back.

"Wh-what did you say?" Venlow stammered, surprised that one of the slaves was addressing him.

"I said, you're different," the small squirrel replied. "I can tell."

"Tammy, don't speak to them!" an older squirrelmaid, slightly younger than himself, hissed to her. She kept her face down as she addressed Venlow, and her words and tone were humble and polite. "Please excuse my sister, sir. She forgets herself."

"No, no, it's all right," Venlow replied with a brave attempt at a friendly smile. "It's fine."

"See, Keris?" the younger squirrel, Tammy, squeaked. "He's different. He's nice."

Keris shushed her tersely. "Ignore, sire," she said in the same polite tone. "As I said, she forgets herself."

"No really, it's fine," Venlow insisted, but turned and padded slowly away. As he did, he could feel the older squirrel's curious gaze burn into the back of his head.

* * *

**H'okay, so...**

**I reintroduced the Sparra. I know, there was no mention of sparrows anywhere after Mattimeo, and I hate that. So I brought them back into the Redwall universe, because I think the sparrows rock and that's all there is to it. :D I just hope I can get the Sparra dialect right. I think that and the Highland accent are the hardest. The hares are a breeze, the moles are easy, and vermin accents are fun, but the sparrows and the Highlanders... SO HARD.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to tell you, I made a few changes in the chapter before last. Just a few, but you still might want to check it to make sure you aren't confused.**

* * *

Jaru watched as the unhappy League mice were loaded into a far-too-small longboat and pushed off. They had been lucky enough to survive, but had been taught firsthand of the fighting skill of corsairs. Currently, both crews were stripping the galleon bare to the hull of anything of value, and he himself had a new curved blade thrust into his belt.

The gray-brown squirrel's nose twitched. It had begun to rain a while ago, and in his excitement he had disregarded it. A wind was picking up, and the sky had darkened.

"Cap'n!" Jaru called to the polecat, who immediately looked up from a bauble she was inspecting.

"Aye, mate? Wot is it?"

"Storm's comin, Cap'n!" Jaru pointed to the thick anvil-shaped clouds. "I don't know about youse, but I don't like the look o' them thunderheads! It's rainin', too!"

Saria glanced up at the sky. "Back t'the _Barracuda_, cullies!" she roared. "I'll be followin' yer wake later, Cythor!"

The stoat captain smiled. "_Bloodsprit's _crew, leave this 'ere great tub ter rot in the seawater! Take wotever ye got now an' back to the ship!"

Both crews, having had their fill of fighting and no longer feeling the urge to battle one another, obeyed their respective captains. Russell took up his position at the steering wheel of the _Barracuda_.

"Yarr!" he called.

Jaru shinned up the foremast, stopping halfway and darting lightly down the yardarm. Rain was falling heavily now, and within minutes the young squirrel felt saturated. A strong wind nearly blew him into empty space.

"Lower the sails!" Saria roared to her crew. "Look alive, cullies! We got ourselves a squall!"

"Up the riggin', mates!" Jordy called enthusiastically.

The sea was swiftly becoming rougher, and the rumble of waves and thunder filled the corsairs' ears. Lightning flashed, and Jaru looked up as somebeast screamed above him. A weasel fell from the mast with a red-hot dagger still clenched in his teeth; every hair on him was standing straight up.

"Kinson!" someone roared. "Cap'n, the lightning!"

"Down!" Saria shouted at the top of her voice. "Everybeast down from the mast! Quick now!"

Jaru shot down the mast headfirst, but paused a moment, blinking in the driving rain toward the end of a lower yardarm. A new member of the crew, a ferret about Russell's age named Tobias, was clutching the yardarm with all four paws.

"Are ye mad, Tobie?!" Jaru yelled. "Get down!"

"C-c-can't!" the ferret stuttered in terror. The squirrel sighed. This was Tobie's first time up a mast. What a time to discover that he wasn't comfortable with heights!

Jaru darted down the length of the yardarm and grabbed the back of Tobie's tunic. "Grab a hold of my tail and follow my lead!" At a painfully slow speed, Tobie opened his eyes, cautiously turned around, and obeyed.

Below, waves pounded over the side of the ship. Saria stared anxiously up at the two remaining crewmembers on the foremast. "Jaru, Tobie, hurry it up an' get down from there!" the polecat screamed.

"Cap'n! We're takin' on water!" a rat called, scrambling up from below deck. "The waves punched a gapin' hole in the side! It's fillin' up fast!" Her eyes were bleak. "Saria, I don't think we can ride this one out."

The polecat opened her mouth, but closed it. She shut her eyes in defeat and called out an order she never thought she'd have to.

"Abandon ship! To the longboats, everybeast!"

Jaru and Tobie were still on the yardarm when lightning struck the foremast, snapping it clean off. The young ferret screamed in terror as he and Jaru were sent plummeting into the sea. With a stinging splash, Jaru hit the water. All he could see was an incoming piece of the ship's hull coming at him before his world went black.

* * *

Jaru awoke to somebeast anxiously patting at his face. His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring up at Russell. He groaned softly.

The gray otter let out a "Yarr" of relief, and Jaru took stock of where they were.

They were still out in the water, using a piece of the foremast as a boat. Pieces of rope and wood floated nearby, but the ship was nowhere to be seen. The early evening had tinged the sky violet and orange.

"Where's the _Barracuda,_ mate?" Jaru asked. The otter looked at him sadly and pointed downward into the water. "It sank?" Jaru's heart sank as well; the _Barracuda_ had been his home for seasons.

"How long have I been out?" the squirrel inquired.

"About an hour," another voice behind him answered. Jaru attempted to turn around, but ended up falling into the water. Tobie was straddling the floating mast, looking miserable. "We lost sight of the rest of the crew. They must've gotten away in the lifeboats. The storm passed not two hours ago."

"So what do we do now?"

"Get to dry land," Tobie replied, pointing. The coast was in view; a few hours of good paddling would get them there, Jaru guessed. "Probably where the crew went, too. Dunno where _Bloodsprit_ went, though."

"That's the least of our worries," Jaru said, heaving himself back onto the mast piece. "For right now, we'd better focus on paddling."

Russell dove into the water and grabbed a length of rope that was floating nearby. Quickly he tied it to one end of the broken mast and began towing it along.

Paddling with all four paws, Tobie grinned at Jaru. "We'd best thank our lucky stars our Russell's an otter, mate!"

* * *

Saria awoke to find herself sitting hunched over, with her back against something solid and water lapping at her chin. Her paws were clenched around the hilt of her rapier, the blade of which was buried deeply into a huge piece of wood from the battered hull behind her. The wood was the only thing propping her up and keeping her from drowning in the shallows.

Groggily she tried to stand, only to fall back into the water on unsteady footpaws. The scarf that she usually wore to cover her empty eye socket was gone. With a grunt of effort, she tugged her rapier out of the wood and struggled up the wet shore to the dry sand. There she lay on her side, panting with exhaustion. Clutching her rapier loosely in one paw, and with no thought for whether or not she might be attacked, she fell asleep.

Even in her dreams she still felt tired, but comforted. _Wot was it Granmum used to say? Bless 'er ole gray 'eart, she always had little phrases for the little things in life. Oh yes... it was "finding healing in the dream-fields"._

"That you are, Saria."

The young polecat turned around to see a mouse standing before her. Not a fat, pompous creature like those of the League, no, but clearly a warrior born. The creature's gray eyes bore into hers, and she forced herself not to look away.

"You are a brave creature, Saria," the mouse said gently. There was amusement on his face. "A ruffian, to be sure, but brave. You will have to be, for what is to come."

"Who are ye?" Saria asked carefully. Then she added, rather pertly, "Are ye just some figment o' me exhausted imagination? Cos if'n yew ain't, then wot in 'Ellgates are ye talkin' about?"

The mouse smiled warmly at her. "I am as real as any of your ancestors, or your parents, or even your granmum," he replied. "My name is Martin, the Warrior of Redwall. As for what I speak of... you will find that out for yourself. You must find your way to the Abbey, for its sake and for the sake of other creatures like you."

"Other creatures like me?"

"Beasts of the vermin species, who follow in the pawsteps of the corsairs Romsca, Graylunk, Grubbage, and Blaggut, Veil Sixclaw the Outcast, my own friend Gingevere Greeneyes, and others less well-known." Martin once again fixed her in his piercing gray stare. "Go to Redwall, Saria. Your crew will find their way back to you. A few already have."

Saria blinked. "Wot d'ye mean?"

The dream vanished abruptly, and Saria was left in darkness.

"Cap'n! Saria, it's me, Jaru! Tobie, Russ, I found her!"

The polecat forced her leaden eyelids open. "J-Jaru?" With the squirrel's help, she raised herself up into sitting position. _Mad dream,_ she thought. _But was it real?_

"You awright, Jar?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jaru replied, looking immensely relieved that his captain was alive. "Tobie and Russ are here, but I don't know where the rest o' the crew are. Big hunk o' wood brained me before I could see where they went. What happened to you?"

"The crew was getting into the two longboats we had," Saria recalled without two much difficulty. "I was just gettin' in meself when the boat lurched, and I got knocked flyin' into the water. Musta' banged me nob somewhere, cos I blacked out. Fates be blessed, I got tossed up into the shallows. I woke up, dragged me soppin' wet tail to shore an' fell asleep."

"Well, if the crew's anywhere, they're probably here," Tobie reckoned. "What should we do now?"

Saria glanced at the sky. She must have been asleep for a long time, for evening had passed and the sky was now almost black. "Well, I'll tell youse one thing," she told them as she got to her footpaws. "I ain't in no fit state to do nothin' but have a good sleep. Wot we should do is find a nice sheltered spot to get our heads down fer the night. When it's light, we'll find summat to eat and go from there."

The four creatures made their way doggedly for the dunes. Fatigue slowed them down and caused them to stumble several times, but the sheltering hills of sand were not far. On the lee of a dune, they found a rather spacious dugout, where they gratefully lay down. It was a tight squeeze, but Jaru made it less so by staying just outside it.

"I'm not that tired," he said. "I'll watch for trouble."

"Wake me after a while, and I'll keep watch," Tobie murmured to him before drifting off. Russell settled down next to him with a downcast look on his face. Saria noticed him shoot several longing glances toward the sea. With a small smile, she ruffled his ears.

"Don't worry, Russ," she assured him. "We'll find another ship. An' when we do, I'll let ye name it." The small gray otter smiled bravely at her before his eyes closed, and he slept.

Saria turned to the squirrel. "Jaru, mate, can I ask ye something?" she murmured to him.

"Ask away, Cap'n."

The polecat tore a strip from her storm-beaten tunic and tied about her brow and over her missing eye. "'Ave you ever heard of a place, er, an Abbey 'round 'ereabouts? Redwall, possibly?"

Jaru chewed his lip thoughtfully, and an expression of nostalgia crossed his face. "I 'ave, actually," he replied. "Yes, Redwall Abbey, east of here, I think. Never been there meself, but I do remember... ah, it was so long ago, when I was no more than six seasons old, or younger. Me mum'n'dad told us about Redwall Abbey, a place of peace and plenty."

"'Us'?"

"Aye, me an' my sisters, Keris and Tamaresse," Jaru said. "We were captured by a band of slavers. Dunno where my sisters ended up, but I was sold to the corsairs as an oarslave, and... well... the rest is history."

"Er... does the name 'Martin' have anything to do with it?" Saria pressed.

"Yes," Jaru replied. "Martin the Warrior, the guiding spirit of the Abbey, I think." He turned to stare at her. "Why do you ask?"

Saria retreated into the little sand cave. "I'll tell ye in the morning," she said.

* * *

Friar Jeb was happy to provide a supply of kitchen knives for the collection of weapons. Not his best ones, of course, but still sturdy and sharp.

"Thanks, Friar!" Roopert bobbed his head to the ottercook as he and Rakktam left the kitchens with a number of knives.

Sister Melanda the Recorder had opened every cupboard and drawer in her office to make room for storing weapons. It was a big and spacious room, and it had once been the bedroom of Badgermum Cregga before it was turned into a proper Recorder's workplace following the old badger's death.

Helping Melanda was Erin, a young mousemaid who was considered by most to be a tomboy. She disliked the dresses and skirts of a maid, and prefered a homespun smock or jerkin. Her whiskers were poorly groomed, and her headfur often stood up in tufts. At the moment she was stacking staves against the wall and sorting through a scant supply of javelins and spears. At Roopert and Rakktam's approach, she turned and grinned. "Knives? That's great. We can fix them to the staves, and that way we'll have more spears."

Melanda motioned toward an empty cupboard. "Store them in there for the present, and could you help Erin sort the weapons, please?" she said. "It's too bad we don't have proper swords, though." As the daughter of the Abbey Warrior, she had been taught how to use a blade from an early age. "But, after all, this is a place of peace. Pity it can't always stay that way." The squirrel darted over to her desk just in time to catch a falling tome. "Whoops! That'll be the writings of Sister Rosabel; can't let that be damaged, now can we?"

"Sister Rosabel?" Roopert echoed as he carefully placed the knives on the shelf. "Wasn't she the one who wrote about the Taggerung? What was his name...? Deyna, that was it."

"It seems you pay attention in Abbeyschool," Melanda remarked with a smile. "Yes, Deyna the Warrior, the first otter to be Abbey Warrior. And the brother of Abbess Mhera, first otter to rule our Abbey."

Rakktam stifled a yawn, then blushed when the two squirrels turned to stare at him. "Er, no disrespect to ye, Sister, I just never had a head for history." He turned to leave. "I'll just be helpin' yon Abbess wi' the weapon search."

"I like to read about the old battles sometimes," Roopert said, turning back to the Recorder. "From Recorders like John and Tim Churchmouse, Sister Rosabel, Brother Hubert, Abbot Saxtus, Brother Barlom, Craklyn..."

"Yes," Melanda said with a smile, delighted that the young squirrel enjoyed Redwall's history. Suddenly she looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, I have been dwelling a lot on the writings of certain recorders, particularly Saxtus, Barlom, Craklyn, and... oh, who else... oh yes, Malbun Grimp. Very intriguing." She turned and selected a volume. "Yes, Craklyn Squirrel, who wrote of the Isle of Sampetra, particularly the ferret Romsca. And Malbun Grimp, whose writings told of a rat named Grubbage, I believe..."

Roopert squinted, trying to remember. "Oh yes! I see where you're going. Brother Barlom's writings involved Veil Sixclaw, and Abbot Saxtus told of Blaggut, right? I've always wondered about that. Vermin who turn noble."

There was a clatter as Erin dropped an armful of arrows. There was a faraway look in her gray eyes as she stared off at nothing. "Does fur matter when it encloses a noble heart?" she said, seemingly to herself.

Some sixth sense made Melanda grab for a quill and parchment. She had only just dipped a quill into the inkwell when Erin started speaking.

"Three young ones, an unbroken bond

One more by Outcast aided,

All four of them shall bear my name,

They'll come; it has been fated.

From the sunset comes the Rogue

Still seeking out her band,

Moss points the way for evil ones

To march across the land.

When the death chant has rung true

A chieftainess will fight.

Then they will come, and learn this well--

To see, use not your sight.

In the end, one of the three

Will use not eyes, but ears

To stand, to sing a deadly song,

And banish all our fears."

Melanda scribbled away on the parchment as the mist cleared from Erin's eyes. The mousemaid noticed Roopert staring openmouthed at her, and glared at him. "What? It's not polite to stare."

"You mean... you don't... remember?" Rooper stammered.

"Remember what?"

The squirrel Recorder held up the piece of parchment. "Well, Erin, I believe you've banished all our doubts about evil coming. We must speak to the Abbess straight away!"

The two younger creatures followed her out to where Brooky stood in the Great Hall. The three of them stopped in their tracks at the sight of the three frantic chirping sparrows and the desperately half-conscious, injured hawk who was managing to speak.

"Kreeeeaaaaugh! They call themselves Juskalok! They are coming, earthbeasts! They are coming!"


	6. Chapter 6

Log-a-log Kunlo was a tall, lean shrew with a purposeful air about him. Some shrews joked that he looked like a grim fighter making his way to a particularly bloody battle whenever he walked, but Kunlo took these remarks as compliments. Despite his grace and prowess on a battlefield, he was quite awkward and often distant as a father. His wife had died in a battle with a small flock of crows, remnants of the veritable feathered horde that had almost been wiped out by the wolverine Gulo the Savage. As a result, his daughter Kabbry was a tough, self-reliant young maid. That was one of the main reasons he had chosen her to reach Redwall with Skipper Rushlan's son, Todd.

The big river otter Skipper lolloped onto the muddy bank of River Moss and shook himself off like a dog. Kunlo nodded to the otter Chieftain. "Did you find the vermin camp, Skip?"

"Aye, mate," Rushlan replied with a nod. "They ain't started movin' themselves yet, but that don't mean a thing."

Kunlo's eyes narrowed. "I hope Todd and Kabbry are all right. They might run into trouble along the way."

"I wouldn't worry about 'em, Kun," Rushlan assured him. "If I knows me son and yore daughter, they could send any ole band o' vermin packin'. Ye know that, matey."

"Aye," the shrew replied, only just betraying a note of anxiety in his tone. "'Ow many were there, Skip?"

"A full clan of 'em," the otter said grimly. "Around tenscore in number, but not like most Juska clans I've seen afore."

"How so?"

"Well, fer one thing, the females seemed to be looked down upon," Rushlan told him. "They looked to be nearly as low-cast as the slaves they was keepin'. Another thing was, only the fully-growed males had the tattoos. With most Juska clans, the tattoos are put on when the members are no more'n Dibbuns. The youngest 'un I saw with a painted face looked to be about twenty seasons old."

"Does this matter?" Kunlo asked curiously, knowing his friend did not usually make remarks like these unless they were truly important.

"P'raps the exact details don't make a diff'rence," Rushlan admitted. "But all the same, it proves that this Juska clan is different from others. We should be cautious, and not hold too much to what Deyna the Warrior told of them." He straightened up and started back to the temporary camp where the other otters and shrews were. "Who knows, friend?"

Kunlo followed him, pawing at his rapier hilt. "Skip, what'll ye do with yore sister? 'Tain't safe for 'er t'be runnin' with the otter crew when she's got her second infant with her. Her son ain't more'n a season an' a half old! A nursin' mother can't join the battle!"

"Already thought o' that," Rushlan replied. "She's headin' toward Redwall, with several warriors protectin' her. She'll be all right." But his voice betrayed his anxiety.

* * *

Harun's sense of hearing was known to be exceptional, and rumors spread around the clan about his forever-pricked ears missing nothing. It was an advantage for the marten, for it discouraged ideas of plotting.

But at the moment, Dante was disregarding the sensitivity of his father's ears. The young marten had lungs like a bellows, as well as a ringing tenor voice that, if he wanted it to be, was deafening. Twirling his sword and prancing about outrageously, Dante roared out a ballad in an earsplitting but on-pitch voice.

"Proud and so glorious, standing before of us  
Our swords will shine brightly in the sky,  
When united we come to the land of the sun  
With the heart of a dragon we ride

We are flying on wings in winter sky, with fire burning deep inside,  
We are warriors of endless time forever and on,  
On wings of steel an ancient flight, we see the powers that unite,  
The gods will now send us a sign of battle once more,

Through the valley we ride, full of glory we soar,  
Where the fights will be raging for now and for more,  
When united we come and divided they fall,  
Tonight you will witness it aaaaall!

Proud and so glorious, sta--mmmf!"

"Will ye belt up, Dante, yore makin' me lose me appetite!" Figger had stolen up behind the marten and gagged him with a large piece of crusty bread. Grinning foolishly, Dante attempted to speak around his large mouthful.

"Owkinnahmakaloofyappetaht?" he asked.

Figger blinked owlishly. "Wot did ye say?"

Between chuckles, Venlow managed to speak coherently. "You've had education, Figger. Didn't you even learn languages?"

"I may be eddicated, mate, but I don't talk like it, and I ain't no good wid languages. Me name's Figger, see. I can do figgerin', an' that's pretty much it."

Dante swallowed. "I said, how can I make you lose your appetite just by singin'?"

"Cos I know yore singin' too loud when I can't even 'ear meself chew!" Figger retorted with a snigger. "Never sing durin' lunch, Dante. Save yore jaws fer eatin'."

Venlow snickered, and Cody spluttered on the water he was drinking. Between coughs, the small marten laughed. Venlow patted his younger brother's back, about to comment on their comrades' antics when he was hauled up roughly by the scruff of his neck. Twisting around, he found himself staring up into Sott's cruel features.

"Well, me lucky infants," Sott snarled, leering nastily. "You'll be goin' on patrol wid me ter see if youse are proper Juskabeasts yet. And as fer you..." He turned to leer down at Cody, who was staring up at where he dearly hoped the rat's face was. "...I'll be keepin' a sharp eye on yew, runt. There's somethin' ain't right about yew, I just know it!" With that, he stumped off.

Figger glanced at Venlow, confused. "Wot was 'e talkin' about, Ven?"

Knowing his weasel friend had no knowledge of Cody's blindness, Venlow simply shrugged.

* * *

Cody was glad that Venlow was walking beside him through the woods. His older brother kept a paw on one of his shoulders to guide him, and would often whisper directions to him. Venlow spoke incredibly softly, but thankfully an excellent sense of hearing, matching Harun's, came with Cody's blindness.

"Broken branch on your left," Venlow murmured in a voice so low he could probably barely hear himself. Cody lifted his footpaws higher to step over it, and was relieved when he didn't trip over anything.

The sound of rustling and soft breathing alerted Cody to the approach of Jadd, the ferret who had scouted ahead. "Found a patrol of otters, slightly west of here. Didn't see all of 'em, but they're probably a rearguard."

Sott let out a low chuckle. "Well, wot say we gives the babes a chance ter prove 'emselves as Juska, eh?"

Cody swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his dagger. A dagger and sling were all he was ever given, as he was too small to lift a sword, let alone wield it. And now, he was about to go charging into a fight.

The undersized marten heard Venlow murmur in his ear. "Stick close to me, Cody."

Cody obeyed, walking alongside his older brother as smoothly and surely as he could. Angry voices reached his keen ears.

"Oy, wot're you vermin doin' he-aarrgh!" The sick sound of metal sliding through flesh grated in Cody's ears, and a dull thud followed it. An otter snarled with rage, and steel clanged against steel.

Cold panic took hold, and Cody jumped back and stared around wildly, as if it would help him see what was going on. His sharp hearing picked up the sounds of an otter's whisper, just to the side of him.

"Where's Del an' 'er babe?" Cody just barely heard the answer.

"I sent her ahead, in the direction of the Abbey. It's only a day's march away. Watch it, there's a little one on your right!"

Cody yelped and backed away rapidly. An icy sensation gripped him, and the small marten suddenly knew the true meaning of fear. He'd dropped his dagger somewhere, and even if he still had it, he couldn't fight with only his ears.

A sharp blow, from a paw that smelled distinctly of streamwater, knocked him down. Cody could hear heavy breathing, and he realised that an otter was right in front of him. Something brushed by him, and warm liquid sprayed him, preceding the soft thump of a body falling. Kyru hissed in his ear.

"If you ain't gonna fight, then get out of the way of those who are!" Cody needed no second bidding; scrambling up, he took to his paws and ran.

Suddenly, a strange smell found its way through the heavy stench of blood to his nose. It almost smelled like... milk.

_A babe! These otters had a babe with them!_ Without a second thought, Cody swiftly took flight, following his nose. No one seemed to pay him any heed, and the sounds of battle soon grew dimmer as he raced in the direction of the scent.

Without warning, something in his path tripped him. Landing awkwardly in the dirt, the small marten approached it. It was a creature, lying prostrate in the undergrowth. Judging by the smell of streamwater in its fur, it was an otter, and the milk scent told him it was a mother. Cody reached out timidly.

"H-hello?" But in the next instant, he knew it was pointless for him to talk to it. The strong scent of blood and death overlayed everything else. His paw struck the shaft of an arrow, the tip of which was buried firmly into the otter's body.

"I knew it!" Cody whirled to face the direction of Sott's voice. The rat had skillfully snuck up on him, and he's been so preoccupied with the dead creature that he hadn't even noticed. The young marten was hauled up by the scruff of his neck, and he stifled a whimper of pain when Sott dug his claws into his skin.

"Only a blindbeast couldn't tell that otter was dead. Yore blind, ain't yer!" Cody did not have to answer. No amount of wheedling or lying would get him out of this.

Two creatures approached, and the first to speak was Onim, a weasel who had trained Kyru personally. "A blindbeast, eh? Don't even bother takin' him back to camp. Weak beasts ain't fit to set paw in our camp. Sickens me to think he has been fer seasons. Hold 'im still so I can run 'im through."

* * *

**I don't own Dante's song. It's "Heart of a Dragon", and belongs to Dragonforce.**


	7. Chapter 7

The hawk Elric Flametail was not fatally injured, and Sister Armel said that he would be fit to fight in a day or two. But a hideous burn scar now covered one side of his face, and he was blind in one eye.

Sister Melanda announced Martin's words before an assembly of Redwallers, and a chorus of oaths, speculations, and determined yelling followed before Abbess Brookflow whacked her tail on the floor of the Great Hall.

"Shouting and cursing the name of vermin will get us nowhere!" The otter Abbess's voice rang out sternly. The Abbeybeasts gradually hushed. "Thank you! Now, Sister Melanda, have you any notion as to what Martin's words mean?"

"Well, we know that four young ones will come to this Abbey," the Recorder said thoughtfully. "And they will all bear Martin's name."

"Four beasts all named Martin?" Perkle the hedgehog couldn't help interrupting. "Seems daft, if you ask me."

"Well, we know that nothing the Warrior says has an obvious meaning," Melanda pointed out. "It's probably just one of his riddles or double entendres. But one of the things that mystifies me is this line here, 'Moss points the way for evil ones'. Is 'Moss' a creature?"

Todd raised a webbed paw. "It could mean the River Moss. They could be following River Moss to our Abbey."

"But River Moss doesn't come very close to Redwall," said Tam.

Kabbry, though young, had been schooled in woodland lore since her Dibbunhood. "Wait... what if Martin simply means moss, literally?"

"How can moss point the way for anything?" Melanda inquired.

"Well," answered Kabbry, "one of the first things any rovin' beast should learn is that moss always grows..."

"...On the north side of a tree!" Todd finished. "So if moss is pointin' their way, that means they'd be coming from the south!"

Brooky did not miss a beat. "Tam, double the wallguards on the south ramparts, if you don't mind." With a nod, the Abbey Warrior padded briskly from the Great Hall."

"And what about the rest of the riddle?" Brooky turned back to Melanda.

The Recorder chewed her lip. "I have a feeling we'll be solving the riddle as we go along, making connections with what happens from this point on. I'll try to make sense of it, but we still don't have all the facts."

Graystreak the Sparra King fluttered down from the rafters. "Onemore," he chirped. "Otterskip sister sent ahead to Redwall, with otter nestling. Gouseshrews and otterworms make patrol, watch um Juskaworms."

Brooky nodded. "Thank you, King. We will watch for Del."

* * *

That day saw Saria and her companions trudging through the sands toward the trees. The polecat kept them going at a trot, which was not an easy thing in sand.

"Cap'n, can't we slow down?" Tobie asked, panting. Russell let out a tired "yar" of agreement.

"No, we can't, mate. Know why?" Saria was no less tired, but she forced herself on. "'Cos these're the western shores. We're dangerous close to Salamandastron. You can see it there in the distance. An army o' hares an' a badger guard these coasts from the likes of us. The sooner we get outta the sands, the better."

"What if the hares found the rest of the crew?" Jaru asked worriedly. "We don't know how many there are, how many of the crew survived the storm. They might be outnumbered, and we all know how much a squall takes out of a beast."

"I'm worried about that too, mate," Saria replied, slowing to a walk as they neared the treeline. "But if'n the Long Patrol has found 'em, then wot can we do about it, eh? From wot I hears, the warriors of the Long Patrol are beasts of honor, and the Badger Lady, Melesme, is a noble old creature. 'Sides, there's woodlanders in the crew as well as vermin. All we can do fer now is get to the woods, forage fer vittles, an' go from there to find the crew."

"How'll we find 'em?" Tobie asked. "Go up to a beast, ask real nice if'n they've seen 'em and say pretty please?"

"You'd be surprised," Jaru told him. "Manners can get a beast anywhere when dealin' with most woodland creatures."

They reached the edge of the woods without much incident, and Tobie could not help but gasp with wonder at the deep green trees. "I was born in the plains before slavers took me," he explained defensively to his amused companions. "'Twas early winter when I last went through a forest. Ain't seen so much of this shade of green before, at least so close. Can you blame me?"

"Yar," Russell reassured the ferret, clapping him on the back.

"Well, 'tis gettin' on to spring now," Saria said. "Jaru, mate, climb one o' these trees an' take stock of our surroundin's."

"Aye, Cap'n." The squirrel obeyed swiftly with a whirl of his bushy tail, in such a way that not a single leaf stirred on the branches

"Show-off," Tobie muttered.

"Ah! I see smoke!" Jaru called down. "Smoke from a cookin' fire, not far! We kin make it there by nightfall, I reckon!"

"'Ow do ye know it's a cookin' fire?" Saria asked excitedly.

"Well, 'tis too thin and controlled-looking to be a forest fire, and a bit small for a bonfire," Jaru replied.

"Come down, then," Saria called up to him. "If'n yew say it's a campfire, then I think it's a campfire. We'll investigate. Nightfall, ye say?"

"Aye." Jaru climbed down. "Let's hope they're friendly."

* * *

Venlow stared down at the bodies of the otters the patrol had slain. Forcing down the bile in his throat, the young marten fought madly against the urge to burst into tears. His teeth ground together as he stared down at the dead otter at his feet. The first creature he had ever slain.

"Ain't a very nice feelin', killin'," Figger murmured to him. "Is it?" Venlow could only shake his head dumbly.

Angry voices reached Venlow's ears, jolting him out of his shocked state. "'Old still, yer little blind runt!"

"Cody!"

Venlow dashed from the blood-strewn ground toward the direction of Sott's angry voice. When he saw what had happened, he froze.

Cody had been found out. His small brother was struggling wildly in Sott's iron-pawed grip, while the weasel Onim thrust a spear at him.

Alarm bells went off in Venlow's mind, and for a moment he stood rooted to the spot. Then, feeling as though it was all some bizarre dream that he couldn't wake up from, he lunged forward with his sword drawn. "Stop it! Leave my brother alone!" The sharpened blade of his sword, coupled with Venlow's wild desperation, was enough to chop the spear in half.

"He's blind, you fool!" Sott roared.

"That doesn't give you the right to kill him," Venlow retorted. His eyed caught a slight movement of Sott's free paw, and he threw himself to the side just as Sott drew a dagger and flung it. Instead of striking Venlow, as the rat had intended, the knife buried itself blade-deep in Onim's throat.

"NO!" Suddenly Kyru was there, trembling with emotion as the weasel fell. With a pang Venlow remembered that Onim had taught Kyru everything he knew.

"K-Kyru, he was going to--" Venlow's voice trailed off as his older brother drew his blade. "W-wait... Ky, please don't..."

"Venlow!" Cody managed to twist out of Sott's grip. "Run!"

His younger brother's voice brought him back to his senses. Grabbing Cody's paw, Venlow fled on footpaws fueled by fear and desperation. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Kyru --and only Kyru-- was giving chase.

* * *

By far, Kyru was faster and stronger than any of his brothers. Rage at Venlow's betrayal filled him with a cold desire for revenge. Onim had been his mentor and friend, and his death was all Venlow's fault.

Filled with furious vengeance, and desperate to prove himself worthy of the title of Taggerung, Kyru sent dust flying in his pursuit of his brothers. He was gaining on them, thanks to Cody's weaker build, and before long Kyru saw his youngest brother fall. He himself was slightly fatigued, but the prospect of vengeance lent strength to his paws.

The burly young marten approached Venlow first. His younger sibling stood against the trunk of a tree in order to protect his back, drawing his own sword. To Kyru's amazement, he tossed it to the side and held up his paws.

"I will not fight you," Venlow said, his voice trembling. "I don't want to have to kill. I never did."

The very words themselves enraged Kyru. "Shut up!" he snarled. "Onim is dead because of you!"

" I-I didn't mean to!" Venlow's voice shook even harder, and tears found their way down his face. "I'm sorry! But he was going to kill Cody!"

"Cody's blind, he's no use to the clan!" Kyru barked. He raised his sword purposefully. "If you don't fight, I'll kill you. If you do fight, I'll kill you or die trying."

In a panic, Venlow pressed himself harder against the tree. "No... please, Kyru, I'm your brother!"

"You're no brother of mine!" Kyru roared and lunged forward. Venlow shut his eyes.

In a blur of brown fur, Figger dashed in. "No, Ky, you can't!" he cried. The lean weasel threw himself protectively in front of Venlow, and the momentum of Kyru's lunge drove the blade into his stomach, straight up to the hilt.

As in his dream, time was petrified in Kyru's eyes. Everything stopped, and he was by himself in a frozen forest.

But he wasn't alone. The marten turned and found the strange ferret standing a few yards away. The creature's eyes were fixed on Figger's face with a sad look in them.

Kyru, horrified, turned back to Figger, unable to look away from the look of fear and raw desperation, so like the one on the dream-mouse's face. He turned to the ferret. "I didn't mean to kill him," he said almost pleadingly.

"Of course you didn't," the young ferret said with a shrug. "But you meant to kill Venlow. And that is what ultimately decided Figger's fate."

"But he should have known!" Kyru protested. "He should have known I meant to kill Venlow!"

"Of course he knew," the ferret informed him simply.

"No he didn't, or he would never have jumped in front of it!"

The ferret sighed. "That's exactly what they said about me. Kyru, Figger didn't do it because he thought you weren't going to strike. He did it because he _knew_ you _were_."

"I don't understand."

"This is what I'm trying to teach you, Kyru. This is a lesson that many creatures --including me-- die learning. Some beasts always know it, and they pass nobly and with honor. But some, like you, have it in themselves already, but they don't know it." The ferret stopped, wiping his eyes with a red paw. "I'm trying to save you from my fate." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Kyru pleaded. "Can't you turn back time? Give me another chance? Please!"

"I wish I could," the ferret said, sighing again. "But I'm only a spirit. Nothing more. I'm not a deity."

When Kyru turned back, time had resumed. Venlow crouched over the slain weasel, staring up at his older brother with rage that surprised and frightened Kyru.

"You know what? You were right," Venlow spat. "You're not my brother." Leaving Figger's body, he joined Cody and led him away.

Kyru could not have followed them if he wanted to. He stood, petrified, and stared at the creature he had not meant to kill.

* * *

But what had happened to Dante?

The marten had seen Venlow first run away with Kyru hard on his heels, but could not quite bring himself to follow. He crouched in the bushes unnoticed, watching. About fifteen minutes later Kyru returned with a bloodied sword at his side and bearing Figger's body.

Dante covered his mouth to keep from crying out.

"What happened, Kyru?" Sott demanded. "Are the traitors dead?"

"No." Dante let out an inward sigh of relief at his brother's statement. "They got away. Figger chose to side with them."

"Well, if it's not one traitor and a cripple, then it's another traitor," Sott said carelessly. "Bury him here with the otters, and we'll report this back to Harun Lok."

"'Ey, where'd Dante go?" Jadd the ferret asked, coming up to the scene. "I mighta thought he was with you."

"He will either go after them or come back to us," Sott said roughly. "That will determine his loyalties. Let's leave."

Figger's body was slung carelessly into a shallow pit with the slain otters. When the others were gone, Dante emerged from his hiding place and stood at the edge of the freshly dug earth. He bowed his head, humming a dirge softly under his breath.

Something grasped his footpaw, and he almost yelled. He looked down and gasped aloud.

A tiny otterbabe, no more than a season old, clung to him like a limpet with all four paws. Staring up at him with wide hazel eyes, she reached up and tugged at the scabbard that hung at his side.

Dante gaped. "Er..." Kneeling down beside her, he scanned the area for any sign of other otters. By the bushes, near where he'd been hiding, the tip of something made of cloth caught his eye.

The marten disentangled the little maid from his footpaw as gently as he could and made his way over to the underbrush. Half stumbling and half crawling, the otterbabe followed him. It was a carrying pack for a babe, overturned with a few things spilling out. Dante realized that the babe's mother must have hidden her in the bushes and run on, most likely to come back for her if she'd survived.

There was a necklace hanging off of the pack, and the pendent was a smooth white pebble carved into a flower, with the babe's name engraved in it: Lilia.

"Lilia, eh? Is that your name?" The tiny maid cocked her head and stared at him. Dante could practically feel his heart melt. "Oh, Mother Nature help me." Lifting the babe into the pack, he shouldered the burden carefully and set off in the direction his brothers had taken. "North is to Redwall Abbey, I believe," he said to himself. "Perfect place to take a lost little maid. Hellsteeth, I must be soft. Huh, I certainly can't blame it on old age, now can I, Lilia?"

The babe was already falling asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Flames licked at Annis's paws as her eyes clouded over. Visions flitted in the fire, some only images, others ideas, some even names and voices. Venlow and Cody were out of harm's way for the time being; she did not need visions to tell her so. Kyru had returned with the patrol, looking shaken, and reported to Harun what had happened. Venlow and Cody had betrayed and deserted, Figger was dead, and Dante had been reported missing. To Annis's relief, Harun chose not to pursue them for the moment. The marten was now virtually obsessed with the Abbey of Redwall, determined to claim it for his own. And as for Kyru...

The pale fox sensed a turmoil within him. Harun had made it clear that his estranged sons would be hunted down and made an example of, and he had made it equally clear that Kyru, to prove himself worthy of being the Taggerung, would be the one to do this. But Annis knew that Kyru was no coldblooded killer. Perhaps he wanted to be, but he was not. The vixen did not believe he would kill his brothers when the time came, no matter what he said.

Heaving a sigh, the young Seer withdrew her paws from the fire and got to her footpaws. Hunger gnawed at her belly, as it sometimes did after she tried to See. But more than that, anxiety filled her. She had only joined the Juskalok to watch the progress of Harun's sons. She could sense strength in them, even in Cody. Seeing them killed or turned to evil was the last thing she wanted.

Tracing her a claw over the birthmark on her paw, Annis recalled an old saying her father had once told to her. She whispered it under her breath, as if speaking it would aide the young martens in their plights.

"_Our true strength is not discovered easily, or without grief. Like a desert seed it lies dormant, waiting for the hard rain._"

* * *

Dante glanced from the ground to the darkening sky above him. It was late, and he'd been following his brother's tracks all day. Perhaps it was time to call it a day. He knew his brothers well; Venlow took care of Cody well, and would probably stop for the night as well. Luckily his new charge had not hampered him too much, and she seemed to be kept happy on crushed berries. But now she was crying, simply for the sake of crying as babes often did. She was probably very tired, as Dante was becoming.

The young marten sighed as he gently took off the pack and lifted little Lilia out. Infants fascinated him; he liked them a lot, certainly more so than older creatures (especially those of the Juskalok). But how to get her to calm down?

Remembering what he'd seen his mother and the other clan females do, Dante cradled the otterbabe and rocked her gently. Without thinking, he began to sing softly, making up the words to a lullaby as he went along.

"_Hush a bye,  
__Don't you cry,  
__Sleep beneath an ebon midnight,  
__In your dreams,  
__Pale moonbeams  
__Guide your way through silver twilight._

_In your bed,  
__Lay your head,  
Close your eyes and sleep in peace,  
One by one,  
Stars will come,  
Shine above as troubles cease._

_New stars and old,  
Silver and gold  
__Blazing in the night,  
Do not fear,  
I am here,  
__Sleep until the sky is light._

_Can you see the shining starlight,  
Dance before your eyes,  
__I will stay through the long night,  
I'll be here when you arise._

_Hush a bye,  
Don't you cry,  
Sleep beneath an ebon midnight,  
In your dreams,  
Pale moonbeams  
Guide your way through silver twilight._"

The little ottermaid was asleep. "Huh," the young marten grunted, laying her down. "I'm good with babes. Who knew?"

Dante lay down beside his small charge, keeping one eye open and his sword well within reach.

* * *

It was nighttime when Rushlan and Kunlo stood on sentry duty together while the rest of the shrews and otters took supper together.

"You sure it's such a good idea to light fires, mate?" Kunlo grunted, nodding to the small cooking fires where the crews were roasting trout and boiling vegetation into a soup. "Vermin'd spot us from miles away."

"That's preferable from them spottin' the Abbey," Rushlan replied, nibbling a dandelion root. "'Least we're all hardened beasts wid no oldbeasts or young'uns. We'd stand a fightin' chance agin any vermin."

"Abbey? Ye mean Redwall, sir?"

Both the otter and the shrew gripped their weapons as a gray-brown shape climbed slowly out of a nearby tree. The creature held up his paws to show that he was unarmed, and in the dim light of the nearby fire, it was easy to identify the newcomer as a young squirrel.

"Sorry, shipmates, if I gave ye a fright," the squirrel apologized. "When ye mentioned an Abbey, well... I've heard of it, y'see, an'... anyways... never mind."

Kunlo sheathed his rapier, and Rushlan put up his javelin. The latter nodded to the squirrel. "Who're you, young'un? Wot be you doin' out here this time o' night? Don't ye know there be vermin abroad?"

The squirrel suddenly looked anxious yet hopeful. "Ye've seen vermin 'round thisaways? Wot did they look like, mate?"

"Clan o' Juska," Kunlo told him. "Tattooed savages. Ye seem awfully excited. If you don't mind me askin', what's it to you what the vermin look like?"

"N-no reason, sir," the young squirrel pushed aside the topic. "Anyhow, me name's Jaru, an' I'm afraid me'n' me mates 'ave gotten a bit lost in this neck of the woods. Our ship sank, an' we can't find the rest of the crew. There's only a couple others, sir, I swear it on the hull o' the _Barracuda_. We saw yore fire from afar, an' we 'oped yew might 'elp us."

"A sailor, are ye?" said Kunlo. "Cabin beast?"

"Nay, I'm a full crewbeast," Jaru answered.

The otter and shrew exchanged glances. Full crewbeast? The squirrel was hardly older than thirteen seasons.

Jaru seemed to sense their puzzlement. "We're mostly young'uns, sir. Former oarslaves, but we rebelled an' took over the ship."

"So where are these couple others'?" Rushlan asked.

"Er..." Jaru's eyes flicked left and right. "They're... eh..."

"Jaru, yew 'alf-wit," an exasperated voice scoffed. An adolescent ferret strode into view, followed by a pale-furred otter.

"Vermin alert!" Rushlan roared. "Looks like they've got prisoners!" Otters and shrews sprang up and rushed over. Shoving past Jaru, Rushlan raised his javelin and leapt at the ferret. He sprang back but made no move to defend herself, simply because he had no weapon.

Kunlo moved to attack the ferret, but he observed the same fact just as Rushlan murmured to him, "Put up yore blade, Kunlo, they're unarmed." As this was said, the combined crews of otters and shrews stopped, only out of obedience to their leaders. Several of them gripped their weapons tightly, not wanting to give the newcomers a chance to trick them.

"You bet your fat tail we're unarmed, rudderdog," Jaru said reproachfully, picking himself up from the ground where the otter had shoved him.

"Wot idiot would try somethin' while we're outnumbered?" the young ferret snorted. "An' wot in the name of 'Ellgates do ye mean by 'prisoners'? I'm kinda outnumbered 'ere!"

Rushlan looked to Jaru and the small otter. The latter stared back levelly, but the squirrel gave him a withering look. "Do I look like a bleedin' prisoner te yew?"

Tobie stepped forward, holding out a paw to the big otter. "Me name's Tobias, Tobie if y'please, crewbeast o' the _Barracuda_. Er, former crewbeast. As that brushtailed mouthrunner told ye, our ship sank."

Out of politeness, Rushlan shook Tobie's paw, staring warily at him as if expecting him to sprout fangs and spit poison. Tobie noticed this and glared at him.

"I ain't done nothing to yew! If'n yew don't mind, save the dirty looks for when I actually try t'murder somebeast." He shook his head. "Not that I am. Anyways, Jaru ye know, and the little gray otter is Russell."

"Yarr," Russell said with a grin. Now that the otters and shrews were no longer attempting to kill his friends, he was quite cheerful.

"Don't mind 'im, sir," said Tobie. "'E was born an oarslave, somethin' went not right wid 'is head after the mistreatment. Yarr's the only thing he'll say."

Kunlo and Rushlan looked at each other, seeming to hold a silent conversation. "I don't think they'll do us any harm," Rushlan said thoughtfully after a moment.

The three of them visibly relaxed. "Thankee sir," Tobie said with a bow. "Thankee kindly. Now wot's this we 'ears about Juska?"

"Juskalok," Rushlan explained. "We received a message from Redwall saying that their leader was planning an attack on the Abbey. We're not sure when and how."

Kunlo was clearly uneasy about revealing so much to vermin, but he was willing to trust his otter friend's judgement. So he forced down the remarks on his tongue and kept the suspicious look off his face.

"We could help, couldn't we?" Jaru asked, turning to his shipmates.

"Wid our crew missin' an' our ship lyin' at the bottom of the ocean, we got nothin' else to do," Tobie said with a shrug, and Russell nodded. "We may find our comrades 'long the way." He turned to the otter, his gaze flickering left and right over the gathered warriors. "So wot d'ye say, mates? Fancy some 'elp from former crewbeasts o' the _Barracuda_?"

"Skip, you sure this is wise?" One otter spoke up. "They seem harmless now, but they are vermin after all."

Muttering furiously, Jaru kicked the base of a tree in his annoyance, succeeding only in causing a splitting pain in his footpaw. "Hellsteeth!" he snarled under his breath as he hopped awkwardly while holding his footpaw. "Not me smartest move, no sir."

"Jaru, ye're a wonder t'the livin' world," Tobie muttered sarcastically.

"Shurrup."

"I see no reason not to trust them," Rushlan said decisively. "But they'll stay in the woodlands with us, away from Redwall. We kin keep an eye on 'em, and they're outnumbered if'n they try anything. Agreed?" The compromise worked; after a few exchanged glances and whispered conferences between otters and shrews, there were nods of agreement from most of them. Even the otter who had spoken out against them had quieted, but still questioned Rushlan.

"Skipper Rush, 'ow do we know if me mate'n'daughter've made it to the Abbey?" he asked anxiously. "We ain't heard nothin' from the Sparra messengers."

"I'm worried about 'em, too, Padra," Rushlan answered. "It is, after all, me sister an' niece. But we can't be worried about that right now when the abbey could be in danger."

Padra nodded curtly before turning on a footpaw and padding back to the fire.

* * *

In the shadows, Saria watched as her crew members joined the otters and shrews. The young polecat let out a sigh of relief, knowing they would be safe. Jaru was a sensible, reliable squirrel, and she knew she could trust him to look out for Tobie and Russell. But, ship or no ship, she was a captain and therefore responsible for her creatures. The fact that the otters and shrews were affiliated with Redwall left her in no doubt that she would cross paths with her mates again. But for now, she had a duty to her missing crew.

With a heavy sigh, she set off to the east the shores were to the west, so this was the best way to go to find this Redwall place. She resolved to march through the night and sleep come morning. There was no chance of getting any rest now.

As she had often done while at sea, Saria followed the stars. She could do this as well on land as she ever did out with the deck of a ship beneath her paws. She did not know how far she had gun before she suddenly tripped in the dark and ended up flat on her muzzle. "Oof!"

Somebeast's footpaws had been in her path, and she instinctively reached for her rapier. There was more than one beast here, camping for the night, and she had been so lost in her thoughts that she'd missed them entirely.

"Unh... 'o's there..." a familiar voice murmured, then became clearer as the speaker awakened fully. "Jordy, wake up! There's somebeast--"

"Jordy!" Saria exclaimed. "Marek an' Damon! Tori! Hellsteeth an' Darkgates, is that yew?"

All four beasts sprang up. "Cap'n!" the tall ferret Damon cried. "Where've yew been?!"

"Thither an' yon, mate," she replied. "I was headin' fer that Redwall Abbey place, though."

"So was we!" Marek told her excitedly. "We decided that a place full o' peace-lovin' beasts would be the safest place right now while we have no ship. Lan' sakes, Cap'n, were ye goin' to march through the night?"

"Aye," Saria replied. "'Member wot I said to the crew once? Redwall Abbey's the place to be. If the crew's anywhere, they're there."

Jordy the vole sprang forward. "Well, there's no chance o' me goin' back t'sleep this night. Wot say we keep movin', eh, Cap'n?"

"I think it's a grand idea," Saria replied. "And youse?"

There was a heartfelt "Aye!" from everybeast present, and that decided things.

* * *

Roopert and Dauncey were balancing a tray between them for the south wallguards. It was somewhat heavy to the young friends, and so balance was everything. They almost dropped the load when the red-tailed hawk limped out onto the lawn. Despite the bird's injuries, it was a dangerous looking creature, clearly not to be trifled with on the best of days.

"Oh, er, good evening to you, Mister Flametail, sir," the young squirrel greeted him nervously.

"Krah! Sir Elric or simply Elric, please," the hawk replied as the two crossed the lawn together. "I'm a warrior bird, a brand of fire with wings, as my mother once said. Your Infirmary Sister instructed me not to fly for at least a day or two. Kreegah! She could chase a horde of vermin away by rapping their paws with a ladle."

Tam had heard the hawk's words from his position on the wallsteps. "Hoho, aye, mate, I've no doubt about that." Squinting at Elric's bandages, he harrumphed severely. "I trust that wound hasn't made ye useless, mate?"

Elric's remaining eye glinted with humor, and he shrugged his feathered shoulders. "It's only an eye, MacBurl. Mother Nature saw fit to grace me with a spare."

"Good," Tam replied with a smile. "You take your injuries a lot better than another hawk I knew, a goshawk by the name of Tergen. I heard he died in a battle at Salamandastron."

"Aye, Macburl," Elric said with a nod. "I knew him, flew with him once. Kreeah! A brave bird, that'un. Foolhardy, mayhaps, but brave. He dove right into a crowd of vermin, talons extended as though hunting prey. When he dropped, he did not come up again." The red-tailed hawk shook his head sadly. "Such is the life of we flames on wings."

Rakktam, who was on wallguard duty, stroked Rockbottom's shell absently as he helped himself to the tray of food his friends had brought.. "Ah, sure, it's a hard life fer bravebeasts 'ere. But wot can ye do?"

Tam nodded. "Our fates are in the wind!"

* * *

**Did you catch that just now? Tam just quoted himself.**

**Anyways, sorry it took so long. Writer's block and all that. I was also caught up in my Happy Tree Friends fanfic, which is now briefly on hold while I wrestle with writer's block in that area.**

**Annis quoted E.E. Knight's novel, Dragon Outcast.**

**Dante's song is loosely based on All the Pretty Little Ponies, a traditional lullaby. I mainly used the tune.**

**Padra's name was borrowed from The Mistmantle Chronicles.**

**And Elric's line, "It's only an eye, MacBurl. Mother Nature saw fit to grace me with a spare." is an homage to 300.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A Note from the Author:**

**I give my heartfelt apologies to those who are reading this fic. But unfortunately I, like many of you, am human, and therefore prone to mistakes. I realized I made a mistake in the last chapter, so that certain parts of the prophecy wouldn't quite line up with the story in later chapters, so I made some changes to Chapter 8. I pray your indulgence for this little mix-up, but you'll probably want to re-read the last chapter. Once again, sorry!**

**--Adderstar of ValorClan**


	10. Chapter 10

Todd and Kabbry stood on the south wall ramparts, staring out as the morning sun hovered to their left. The young otter drummed his tail restlessly, but Kabbry remained still and silent. After a while, Todd turned to her. They had been friends for as long as either of them could remember, and they had practically grown up together.

"You all right, Kabb?" Todd asked, though there was really no point in doing so. Of course she wasn't all right; her eyes were hard, her claws gripped the wall anxiously, and her mouth was a thin, tight line.

"Fine," she replied tersely. "I'm just fine, mate. Why do you ask?"

"I'm worried about me dad, too," said Todd. "An' don't act like you ain't, Kabb, I kin tell when yore lyin' through yer teeth. Yore terrifed for yer dad an' nobeast blames ye for it, 'specially not me, Melanda, nor anybeast wot has a warrior for a father. I don't care wot ye learned growin' up relyin' on nobeast but yoreself, but it ain't a bad thing to be scared. Partick'ly when it comes to loved ones."

"I hate fear," Kabbry muttered flatly. "It stops me from doin' what I gotta do."

"Fear's a good thing," Todd said drily. "It shows yore payin' attention. We're deadbeasts without fear."

"Mebbe."

Pawsteps on the stairs alerted the two friends to the arrival of Dauncey, Roopert, and Rakktam. "Mornin', chaps," the hare greeted. "Anything stirring out there?"

"Nay," Kabbry replied. "No sign of anybeast."

"That may be a good thing," Rakktam remarked. "As me dear ould mother used to say, no news is often good news. Ah, me dear mum... may the sun smile on her restin' place..." A tear rolled down his face, but he brushed it away quickly.

"I say, chaps, what's that out there?" Dauncey asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed. The other three creatures turned to follow the hare's pointing paw out into the sward around the abbey. Sure enough, a small pawful of creatures was making their way across to the building. They moved slowly, as if hindered by injuries, and one creature was actually being carried by two of its fellows.

As they neared the abbey, the little group of strange creatures picked up their pace. The figure leading them looked up and caught sight of the sentries. "Ahoy there!" she roared up to them. "Fancy lettin' in some pore wounded beasts? I 'opes yore not in league with them Juska scum! Is this the place they calls Redwall?"

The creatures were now close enough to be recognizable. Todd tensed when he realized that the one leading them was a ferret, or at least it looked like a ferret, and there were a few other vermin among them. However, there was a vole with them as well, and he didn't look to be a prisoner. Moreover, they all looked quite young, not much older than himself.

Todd bellowed back down in his best imitation of the stern tones of his elders. "Speak yore business, ferret! What d'ye want?"

"'Scuse me, _'ferret'_?" the leading creature snapped reproachfully. "Get yer species straight, please! Did I call ye a planktailed squirrel? I'm a polecat, mate!"

In spite of himself, Roopert smiled at the creature's nerve before stepping forward beside his otter friend. "Very well, polecat, then. But what is it that you want here? And to answer your first question, aye, this is Redwall."

All traces of indignation disappeared from the polecat's face. She and her companions were close enough so that the small smile on the former's face was visible. It held no ill will or malice, only a friendly plea for help. "Then we're at the right place. Have ye medicines an' vittles, matey? Some of my mates here are bad hurt."

Todd turned to Roopert. "Roop, go fetch Tam." As the young squirrel shot off down into the main abbey building, Todd turned back to the strangers on the path. "Aye, we've supplies aplenty for injured beasts. But ye say ye know of the Juska who blight these lands. Were they responsible for your ill fortune?"

"Aye, a stray patrol o' them ambushed us not 'arf an hour ago," the polecat replied. "We put paid to 'em, though. They was prob'ly scoutin' out this land. As for who we are, we're seagoers, pirates at times, but only to those who need to be stole from. Former oarslaves, but we took over the ship. She sank a few days past, and we've been wanderin' the woodlands since. I landed with two o' me mates, but I left 'em with the band of otters and shrews out in the forest afore I found these four."

The creature just behind the polecat, a stoat, stepped forward. "As for the rest of us, we landed fairly close to 'ere, left our longboat moored in a tributary of the broadstream. But let me ask ye, 'ave ye seen any pirate-lookin' beasts here? We agreed we'd try ter find Redwall if sommat like this happened."

"I'm afraid not," Todd replied. "But what do you mean by 'those who need to be stole from'? Who do you steal from, corsair?"

The polecat grinned widely. "E'er heard o' the League mice, mate?"

Todd let out a sudden bark of laughter. "Hahahaharrharrharrharr! Never thought I'd say this to a corsair, but more power to ye!"

At that moment, Tam arrived with Roopert at his heels. "Vermin on the path, Todd?" the older squirrel asked. "Are they with the Juska?"

"Nay, sir," Todd replied with a wide smile. "They're former oarslaves turned corsair, sworn against the League mice and no other. If ye want my opinion, Mister MacBurl, they're no 'arm to us. They were attacked by the Juska, actually."

Tam gave him a curt nod and went to the walltop. "Good morrow to ye, polecat," he greeted. "My name is Rakkety Tam MacBurl. I'm the Abbey Warrior of Redwall. Who might you be, besides a rogue and pirate?"

Something clicked in Todd's mind, and he glanced at Kabbry, who nodded knowingly. The polecat and her band were heading from a westerly direction, opposite the rising sun. They were looking for their crew.

"Mister MacBurl," Roopert murmured, having figured it out as well. "_From the sunset comes the Rogue, Still seeking out her band._"

"Let 'em in," Tam said decisively. "Be cautious, though. Ye can never tell with vermin."

Hefting his spear, Todd pattered down the steps behind Roopert, who cautiously opened the front gate as if he feared it would catch on fire. As the small party came inside, Todd was able to count about five of them, including the unconscious ferret that was carried between the vole and a thin-looking female weasel.

Todd stiffened slightly when the polecat drew her rapier, but realized then that he had nothing to fear when she laid it on the grass and motioned for her companions to follow suit.

Squinting at the young otter, the polecat spoke thoughtfully. "Ye look familiar, mate. Yeh wouldn't be related to that big otter out in the woods, would ye?"

"Skipper Rushlan?" Todd replied. "I should say so; he's my father."

"Thought so. Anyhow, me name's Saria, Saria Stormrider of the _Barracuda,_ or formerly of. These be me shipmates, the stoat's Marek, the weasel's Tori, the vole's Jordy, an' the sleepin' ferret is Damon."

Roopert was glancing at each creature in turn. "I can see you're all wounded in some way," he remarked. "If it's alright with Tam, I can take you all to the Infirmary."

"Infirmary?" Marek echoed. "Wot's that?"

"It's where we here at Redwall care for the sick," Tam explained, descending the wallsteps. "If Roopert would fetch Sister Armel and a stretcher--"

"No need for that, mate," Saria brushed away the offer as politely as any corsair could. "We carried 'im this far, we kin carry 'im a bit farther. Just lead the way ta this Infirmary place."

* * *

"Very well then," Tam said with a nod. "Roopert, tell Abbess Brookflow of the news." The young squirrel dashed off. "As for the rest of you, carry on guarding the walls. I'll send your relief in an hour."

Venlow had a tight hold of Cody's paw as the two of them padded through the woods of Mossflower. A twig snapped beneath the older marten's paw, and Cody jumped. "What was that?"

"Just a twig I stepped on," Venlow assured him. His ears were pricked, and every hair on his pelt tingled with dread. Would Harun follow them? He fervently hoped not; the last thing they needed was a pack of Juska vermin on their tails. It was bad enough they were vermin themselves. Woodlanders didn't think too highly of their kind.

Suddenly, Cody froze. "Ven, I hear something." Trusting his brother's senses farther than his own, Venlow stopped. Cody's whiskers twitched as he sniffed the air cautiously. "Wait, I smell... milk, I think. We're downwind, so I can make it out... I'd say it's a baby. It's... it's the same thing I smelled before! It's a baby otter!"

"Cody?" a familiar voice called cautiously. "Cody, is that you?"

Relief flooded through Venlow. "Dante! Dante, it's us, Venlow and Cody!"

Dante crept through the trees, lugging a pack on his back. There, curled up and fast asleep with the top flap of the pack for a blanket, was the tiny ottermaid. Venlow dashed over and embraced his brother. "Dante, I thought you went back to the clan!"

"You kidding?" Dante laughed. "After I found this little tyke all alone, there was no way I was going back. It was either leave her to die, take her back to the clan for a life of slavery, or bring her along and try and find you two. Her name's Lilia, I think. It was on a little necklace she had. Her mother's dead, not sure where her father is. I was hoping to find anyone, really, who might be able to care for her."

"From the looks of it, you've done a fine job yourself, little brother," Venlow snickered. "Who knew you were such a wonderful nursemaid?"

"Don't make me punch you."

Cody stretched up on tip-paw toward the otter. "I smelled her earlier, when I found the mother's body. But... what do we do now?"

The brothers looked at each other. Cody had a point; what were they to do?

"I have an idea," Venlow said at last. "We go to Redwall."

"What?" Dante gasped. "Are you mad?"

"Hear him out, Dante," Cody said softly. "Why do you say that, Venlow?"

"I've heard tales of this Redwall place," the marten said, lowering his voice as if for fear of being watched. His younger brothers leaned in to hear his explanation. "They're wary of vermin, but more tolerant of them than anywhere else. I heard a story of a baby ferret that was taken in and raised there, and another tale of a mortally wounded corsair weasel that went there, and they gave him refuge until he ran away to die alone in the forest. It's the best chance we have, and however they receive us certainly can't be any worse than the welcome we get if we go back to the Juskalok. Cody's blind, I killed Onim, and you ran away, Dante. Redwall's our best bet."

Dante thought it over only briefly before nodding. "It makes sense." Dante straightened, "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's--"

Without warning, Cody hurled himself at his brother, yelling, "Dante, watch out!" Surprised, Dante leapt back, and Cody fell flat on his stomach as a javelin whizzed out of the trees and buried itself into the ground a hairsbreadth away. Venlow grasped the scruff of Cody's neck and hauled him up, yanking him away from the missile.

Cody trembled. "I- I heard it!"

"Forget hearing," Dante muttered, standing by his brothers. "Look."

Venlow's heart dropped to his footpaws. Their way was now blocked by a crowd of otters and shrews, menacing them with spears and rapiers. With a growl, Dante drew his sword, only to be held back by his older sibling.

"Stop it, Dante," Venlow hissed. "Attacking them won't do any good." Placing a paw on Cody's shoulder, he moved his little brother behind him before holding up his empty paws. "Truce. We mean no harm."

"'No harm', he says," one of the shrews snorted. "Huh, no harm, my auntie's tail!"

The otter next to him gripped a spear menacingly. "Aye, ye heard what they said about goin' to Redwall. They're prob'ly with the Juska!"

"Wait!" Dante shouted, stepping in front of his brothers. "Wait, don't attack... just wait..." Slowly he laid down his sword, took of his pack, and lowered it gently to the ground. One of the leaders, a tall shrew, put a paw to his rapier handle suspiciously.

Dante carefully undid the flap of the pack and lifted the tiny ottermaid out. Little Lilia was awake by now, and at the sight of her kind, she let out a happy giggle. The young marten carefully set her on the ground and gave her a small push. She hesitated, glancing back as though unwilling to leave him yet.

The otter in front was staring in openmouthed shock, and someone in the back began pushing his way forward. "Out o' the way! Get out o' my way!" Another otter, shorter than the leader but still a large specimen, shoved his way to the front. At the sight of the baby otter, he gasped. "It's Lilia! That's my daughter!"

Lilia immediately toddled forward with a glad cry. "Dah!" She tripped, about to fall, but the otter caught her in a strong hug. In a trice, the three brothers were surrounded. Swallowing hard, Dante plucked up his courage to speak.

"I never harmed her, and I had no intentions of using her as a trump card," he said. "Yes, we were planning to go to Redwall, but not to spy or kill. We're only seeking safety, and I wanted to take the otterbabe there so she could be properly cared for."

"He's lyin'!" the spear otter snarled, grabbing Cody by the scruff of the neck. "Say the word, Skipper, an' I'll run this lily-livered scrap through."

Without thinking, Venlow flew at the otter that was menacing Cody. He was seized from behind and held back, but it didn't stop him from yelling, "Stop it! Leave my brother alone! Let go of him!" He struggled fiercely against his captors.

Skipper grabbed the spear-carrying otter's shoulder. "Hold hard, there, mate." Venlow faltered slightly and mellowed as the otter loomed over him. "I've never seen a vermin stand up for a family member like that."

The young marten forced the trembling out of his legs. "Please, leave him alone! He's never done anything wrong! I promised my mother I'd watch out for him!"

Looking surprised, the otter raised an eyebrow. "OH? And why do you need to watch out for him, young'un?"

"H-he's blind, sir," Venlow replied. "You're right, we're from the Juskalok, but we're not one of the anymore! Our father Harun would've killed Cody if he found out he was blind, only Dante and I kept it from him and..." His voice trailed off.

"And?" Skipper prompted.

"We were found out," said Venlow. "He was going to be killed, but I stopped it and killed a clanbeast, so Cody and I had to run. But Dante found the little ottermaid and followed us, and then you found us."

"Where did Dante 'find' her?" the otter who was Lilia's father demanded. "What happened to her mother and the patrol of otters with them?"

Venlow did not know the answer to this question; he looked to Dante, who swallowed hard. "We were on patrol when Cody was found out," the latter said in a low voice. "We found a patrol of otters..."

The otter put Lilia down and grabbed Dante's shoulders in a vicelike grip. "_What happened?_"

Dante could think of no way to honey-coat the truth. "D-d-dead, s-sir. Th-there was a female otter among them." Tears squeezed out of his eyes as he forced himself to continue. "And then afterwards, I... I found your daughter in th-the bushes and I c-couldn't just leave her there... I couldn't..."

After staring intently into Dante's tearful eyes, the otter released him and stood up. "He isn't lying, Skipper. Neither of them are; I can tell."

Skipper turned to the tall shrew beside him, who gave a curt nod. "The little'un's blind, as he said. See how he stares off into the distance like that? A couple of our scouts came back with reports that a few of the Juska young'uns had deserted. Normally I don't take kindly to vermin, but I no good when I see it as much as I know bad." He turned to his shrews. "Put up your blades, Guosim. These beasts will come to no harm."

Holding out a paw, Skipper introduced himself. "Well, my name's Skipper Rushlan, but ye can call me Skip. This 'ere shrew is Log-a-Log Kunlo, leader o' the Guosim shrews."

"My name's Venlow, sir," the oldest marten replied, shaking the otter leader's callused paw. "As I said before, these are my younger brothers, Dante and Cody. We should tell you something, though. Harun Lok is planning to attack Redwall very soon. I'm not sure when, but soon." The big otter nodded curtly.

"I'm Padra," Lilia's father said. His daughter toddled over to Dante and immediately attached herself to his leg. Padra smiled. "She's taken to you. Thank you for saving her."

Dante could only nod, overcome with relief.

All of a sudden, a gray-brown squirrel, a small bluey-gray otter, and a young ferret padded out. "Does this mean we're going to Redwall, sir?" the squirrel asked. "We obviously can't keep a small babe out here in the woodlands." Venlow blinked; the squirrel seemed familiar somehow.

Skipper nodded. "Good point, Jaru. It's time to put aside our vermin-woodlander differences. We'll have to stand together if we're to protect Redwall. Ye said earlier that your cap'n went to Redwall searching for the rest o' yore crew?"

"Aye, Skip. She's prob'ly there by now, waitin' for us mebbe," the young squirrel replied.

"Alright, to the logboats!" Kunlo rapped out. "We row for Redwall."

As the combined forces of otters, shrews, martens, and former corsairs headed toward the stream, Venlow caught up to Jaru. "Have we met before somewhere?" he asked. "I feel like I've seen your face before, or a face like it."

"I don't believe we have, mate," Jaru replied. "Mayhap--"

"Keris!" Venlow said suddenly. "You look just like a squirrelmaid in my clan's slaves."

Jaru's eyes widened. "Keris? Are you sure that's her name?"

"Yes."

"She's my sister! We were captured by slavers, sold to different owners!"

"Then you have another sister, a small one named Tammy?" Venlow asked excitedly.

"Tamaress, she was little more than a babe when I last saw her!" Jaru gasped. "They're alive, I don't believe it! My sisters are alive!"

"And they'll be free before all this is over," the ferret, who Venlow learned was named Tobias, piped up.

The small otter nodded enthusiastically. "Yarr!"

Tobie grinned. "Ye got that right, mate!


	11. Chapter 11

The sun rose over Mossflower woods.

Venlow stretched, rather peeved when he noticed that the morning dew had dampened his fur. Fluffing his pelt to dry it, the young marten looked around. Only three others were up and about: the shrew and otter leaders, and Dante.

The latter smiled brightly at the sight of his older brother. "Mornin', Venlow."

"You were always a morning creature, Dante," Venlow commented. "Were you planning on singing to wake up this dozy lot? Er, no offense, Log-a-Log Kunlo, Skipper."

In spite of himself the good-natured otter Chieftain chuckled. "None taken, matey. Did ye say yore brother can sing?"

"Sing, talk, yell," Venlow replied, feeling at ease when talking to Rushlan. "His was voted the loudest voice among the Juskalok young 'uns. Hey Dante, how 'bout you give us a song?"

"Soft, medium, or loud?"

"Go with soft," Venlow advised. "Cody's ears are more sensitive than most."

His younger brother smiled brightly. "Ven, you used to tell me, 'Go with loud. Harun's ears are more sensitive than most.'"

In spite of himself, Venlow snickered. "Just open your gob and belt one out, Dante. Do it soft, though. Don't want to give our position away to the Juskalok."

Ever happy to please when it came to his singing, Dante opened his mouth to oblige. His voice rose softly and gently, to as high a volume as he dared reach.

"_Sons of the sea, sons of the saint,  
Who is the child with no complaint;  
Sons of the great or sons unknown  
All were children like your own._"

_The same sweet smiles, the same sad tears,  
The cries at night, the nightmare fears,  
Sons of the great, sons unknown,  
All were children like your own._

_Sons of the horde, or sons from the farms  
All of the children ran from your arms.  
Through fields of gold, through fields of ruin,  
All of the children vanished too soon._

_In towering waves, in walls of flesh,  
Amid dying birds trembling with death,  
Sons of the horde, sons from the farms,  
All of the children ran from your arms._

_Sons of your sons, sons passing by,  
Children were lost in lullaby.  
Sons of true love, sons of regret,  
All of your sons you can never forget._

_Some build the roads, some left to roam,  
Some went to war, some never came home.  
Sons of your sons, sons passing by,  
Children were lost in lullaby._"

Dante smiled brightly when he finished, and the last notes faded from the air. Most of the creatures were awake by then, and the little otter Lilia giggled and clapped her paws. Skipper Rushlan stole Kunlo's bright headband and swatted him with it. "You spiky-furred boatbouncer," he snorted good-naturedly. "You told me vermin can't sing."

"Alright, corsairs can't sing, then," Kunlo muttered, rolling his eyes. "I heard a searat serenadin' his crew once... it's not something I ever want to 'ear again, mate."

"We resent that!" Tobie interrupted. "That does it! When we get to Redwall, we're having a singing contest!"

"Well, we have to get to Redwall first," Padra reminded them, stepping forward. "The sooner the better."

The wisdom in the otter's words was fully acknowledged, and within minutes the creatures were making for the Abbey, eating on the move.

* * *

Overhead, a pair of scrawny ravens circled and watched. "_Kraark!_ They're on their way to Redwall, Tatterwing."

"I have eyes, Thinbone!" the other snapped. "And we know that Lord Lok's sons are with them. _Yagah!_ Let's get back to the Juskalok."

Thinbone grimaced as his brother banked and headed back to the vermin clan. "Who knows, brother," he croaked darkly. "Perhaps we will actually be fed this time."

"Ha! Don't count on it," Tatterwing replied cynically. "He rewards good news. And even when he does, it's only enough to keep our bones and feathers together. Enough so that we die more slow."

Through Tatterwing's complaint, Thinbone had been watching his surroundings. Suddenly he let out a cry. "Tatterwing!"

Tatterwing glanced back to see what had frightened his brother. "Sparrows!" he squawked, spotting the oncoming flock of small, cheeping birds. "Thinbone, fly!"

Side by side, the two dark birds pumped their wings frantically to gain distance between themselves and the sparrows. But the odds were against them; the sparrows were smaller and quicker, and both ravens were malnourished and barely strong enough to fly at any great speed. In a trice, the unfortunate pair were surrounded.

One sparrow, larger than the rest, darted forward. "Black skyworms! Sparra killee raven enemy!"

"Back, Thornclaw!" another sparrow snapped, blocking his way. Eyeing the ravens fiercely, he addressed both of then. "You spies, Sparra see you! What think we should do, ravenworm?"

Thinbone's nerve deserted him, and he staggered in flight. "Wait, don't kill us! We were just following orders!"

Fighting to hover, Tatterwing attempted to explain. "If we spy, we get fed. That is how Harun deals with us. If we do not, we starve! What would you do in our position?"

The sparrow addressing them glared through fierce, bright eyes. "Rather die than help enemy. Rather be wormfood!"

A slight, dusky-gray sparrow waggled a wing. "King Graystreak Sparra, ravens know enemy. Take 'em to H'abbey place. Otterworm Abbess ask 'em 'bout Juska."

Graystreak, the Sparra King, seemed to think this over. Finally, he nodded. "Shadefeather, idea good. Sparra, fly! Take ravens back to Red Walls."

The two raven brothers looked at each other, their throats bobbing nervously. As they fought their panic, the sparrows positioned themselves in an odd formation around them, and Thinbone and Tatterwing were forced to fly with them. Not just because they feared for their lives, but because escape, they realized, was nearly impossible.

Tatterwing regarded the sparrows. Flying, to him, suddenly required little effort, and yet he could not have flown out of the flock if he wanted to. "Strange," he mused aloud. Then he noted that the birds' configuration, as well as the rhythmic beating of their wings, had created a sort of airborne prison that quite literally sucked the two ravens along. It was a rather advanced strategy for the fierce, hot-headed sparrows. Curiosity overcame his fear. "How did you learn this flying vacuum thing?"

"Learn from hawkfriend," one sparrow chirped shortly, and nothing more was said as the sparrows and their prisoners flew toward the Abbey.

* * *

Saria was in a proverbial paridise. It was all she could do to keep from stuffing her mouth with everything at once. "Roopert, cully, are ye sure this be jest brekkist?" she said, spreading strawberry jam on an oat scone. "I en't never tasted vittles the likes o' this afore! 'Ow 'bout yew, Jordy?"

The young vole was helping himself to a fruit salad. "Prime stuff, Cap'n," he said dreamily.

Tori the weasel laughed, stealing an apple slice from under Marek's nose. "Mebbe if'n I wash me paws an' take a bath, they'll let me inter the kitchens ter see 'ow they makes this stuff," she said hopefully as she ladled honey into a bowl of porridge. "Think it'll work, Marek?"

The stoat, who had never been fond of baths, simply shuddered before replacing the apple slice his shipmate had purloined.

Smiling at the young corsairs' obvious enjoyment, Roopert shook his head. "If you think breakfast is good, you should see our Jubilee feasts and Nameday celebrations. There's food enough to feed ten armies, and drink you could float a ship in!"

"Phwaw!" Marek murmured, wiping his mouth. "I could get used ter a place like this."

Rakktam the vole and Erin the mousemaid looked at each other and grinned. Even if most of them were vermin, it was hard not to enjoy the company of the newcomers. In spite of their background and manner of speaking, they were enormously enjoyable company. Dauncey de Mayne had taken an immediate liking to them, encouraging them to try the different foods. Now, the young hare sipped his mint tea. "Shame your ferret chum's missin' out on this, wot!"

"Don't worry," Roopert assured them. "Sister Armel says he's perfectly fine, he just received a bad knock to his head. See, there he is now!"

Damon the ferret came sauntering in with a white bandage knotted about his brow, seating himself between Rakktam and Erin. "Good mornin', youse," he greeted cheerfully. "Wot's fer vittles, then?"

Wiping his lips on a napkin, Dauncey pushed a plate of oatcakes toward him. "Try these, old lad," he advised. "They're absolutely top hole if you spread honey on 'em, wot!"

"I'll try that, mate!" the ferret laughed.

Erin looked up from stuffing as many blackberries as she could manage into a scone she'd hollowed out. "So you say you're pirates," she remarked. "How come you're so far inland?"

"Our ship was wrecked in a storm," Saria explained, finishing her scone and selecting another. "I was washed ashore wid three o' me comrades. Then they joined a party o' h'otters and shrews in the woods. I went on, lookin' fer the rest o' the crew, an' I met up wid these 'uns."

"How come all your crewbeasts are so young?" Roopert questioned. "Pardon me saying, but you're only a bit older than me."

"We was all oarslaves once," Marek explained. "Til one day we up an' rebelled, drove off or killed the crew. 'Course, like the young 'uns we was, we decided ter be our own crew o' pirates. But we 'ardly ever robs nobeast 'ceptin' the League."

"Sure, an' I've 'eard o' the ould league," said Rakktam. "Me ould dad said they was nuthin' but a bunch o' fat 'n' pompous mice."

"That they are, mate," Damon laughed, reaching for the honey. "Say Cap'n, d'ye 'member ol' Willus Rockblade?"

The young polecat let out a roar of laughter, covering her mouth sheepishly when crumbs sprayed from her muzzle. "'Scuse me, lads, won't 'appen agin. Ho, do I ever! Rockblade? More like Rockbelly! That 'un was fatter 'n Jordy 'ere!"

"Gee, thankee, Cap'n," the vole muttered sarcastically.

"Who was he?" Roopert asked, intrigued.

"One o' the League Masters," said Marek, snickering. "Skinny fer a Leaguesmouse, but still tubby t'be totin' a bloody great longsword like 'e wuz doin'. Thought 'e could turn a sword like our Cap'n! 'Course, ye kin imagine wot 'appened."

Erin's eyes widened, and she stared at Saria. "You killed him?"

"Wot? Course not!" Saria let out another hearty laugh (swallowing first this time). "If'n I'da killed that fatbeast, 'e'da been buried wid full honors an' a crowd o' purty mousemaids paid ter look weepy and sad. Ho no, I fenced circles 'round 'im, played about like I was dancin' wid 'im. Pranced 'round 'im, twirled a bit, or kicked me footpaws 'igh when 'e tried ter swing at 'em. All good fun."

"Modest much, Cap'n?" Tori said with a wide grin. "'Tain't all." To their audience, she continued, "While she'd doin' this, she's beltin' out an absolutely bloody awful pirate ditty fer all to 'ear. An' after she's 'ad enough, our Cap'n dances 'im ter trip over 'is own sword, grabs 'is face 'twixt 'er paws, an' says, 'Thankee kindly, darlin', ye've a rare turn o' paw! Rare indeed!' I tell yer, mates, the great lard bucket wuz puffin' an' blowin' like he'd never breathe agin!"

At this, all the youngsters at the table collapsed into laughter, earning strange glances from the Redwallers around them, and haughtily disapproving looks from Araltum and Idga. The latter two clearly opposed their son's growing friendship with their seafaring visitors, but that was to be expected. Most of the Abbeydwellers, despite any initial misgivings, found it hard not to enjoy the company of the cheerfully roguish young pirates.

Jordy guffawed. "Hawhawhaw! Ye shoulda seen 'ow purple the blighter looked, mates. Fer a moment I thought the poor bugger might explode. No loss, eh? Hawhawhawhawhaw!"

Further merriment was abruptly when Todd and Kabbry, accompanied by a pair of sparrows, came hurrying into Cavern Hole, stopping nearby to speak urgently to Abbess Brookflow.

"Mother Abbess, you must come with us!" Todd told her, just loud enough for the young friends to hear him.

"We've captured a pair of the Juska's spies," Kabbry informed the Abbess. "You should hear what they have to say."

* * *

**Yes, this fic lives on! I have not given up on it, nor will I!**

**Added in some comic relief with Saria and her friends.  
**


End file.
